


Ellipsis

by Captainkirkmccoy (faithintheboys)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Radio, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, BAMF!Bones, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Interviews, Investigations, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Marriage, POV Outsider, Presumed Dead, Prison, Protectiveness, Section 31, Separations, Serial AU, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tarsus IV, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithintheboys/pseuds/Captainkirkmccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is WAZ San Francisco Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. For those of you just tuning in, we’re investigating the case of 32 year-old Leonard McCoy charged with the death of his soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here's What We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. The Soul Mate AU I've always wanted to write. And hopefully one you've always wanted to read. It'll come in ten parts. Bear with me. I'm new at this. Thanks for reading.
> 
> -
> 
> Much thanks to Rochester for her help with betaing and brainstorming and the rest of the team that helped Ellipsis be. I love you all.

_My name is Alicia Agneau and this is WAZ San Francisco Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. For those of you just tuning in, we’re investigating the case of 32 year-old Leonard McCoy charged with the death of his soul mate.”_

“Who doesn’t know the tragic tale of Kirk and McCoy? Gods, it’s positively Shakespearean, if people still read the Bard.” Louisa Wantabee, Cultural Historian at University of Cambridge 

“The thing you have to understand is that this case is to high profile to push aside. People are itching to know what happened to Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy. Not only because of their celebrity but because we believed in them. We wanted them to work.” –People Magazine editor, Ashley Morgansteen 

**AGNEAU:** Here’s what we know: On January 18th, 2262, Captain James T. Kirk went out for a run. He was on a three-month shore leave before the USS Enterprise returned to their Five-Year Mission. Two days later, he was reported missing and a week later his body was found. While his memorial was underway, his husband and soul mate, Chief Medical Officer Doctor Leonard McCoy was arrested. He was found guilty in the shortest trial Starfleet has ever seen, despite the case being dragged out in the press for eons. McCoy was sentenced to life without parole in the New Zealand Penal Colony, striped of his commission, his doctor’s license and his family. Two weeks ago, an appeal was granted. 

And the world wondered, why? What was it about this case that some jury, a Judge had decided to look into an appeal on the first decision? 

**AGNEAU:** Aristela Obonheur, a law student at and a member of the school’s Innocence Project, has been trying to get the project to pursue McCoy’s case for a long time. 

**Agneau:** Can you tell me what it is about this case that makes you think the appeal was granted? Or made you think McCoy was innocent?  


 **Aristella Obonheur:** Oh, definitely. The lack of DNA at the crime scene. I mean, McCoy was a doctor and I’m sure he would have handled it well, but there was no permissable evidence. It was odd that it took five years for them to figure this out but I’m glad they did.

We were all shocked by the court’s decision. Many, like retired Starfleet Judge Eliza Ro called it “unprecedented” while Admiral Barnett put in a motion to stop the proceedings. People clamored in support and disbelief. The Bridge Crew, which had once stood in strong and in support, the Enterprise Six, as they were known, declined interviews. Winona Kirk asked for privacy. No one was sure what to believe, no one was sure how to cover this story. 

But then we received a note. I was gearing up to do a short radio piece, something simple about the case in an effort to wrap my head around the recent developments. But the note was too simple and forceful to ignore. It read simply: Leonard McCoy is innocent.

So is he? 

**AGNEAU:** I’m a Starfleet dropout. One of many in the intervening years between the Narada Disaster and what’s known as The Age of the Enterprise. Most of my generation joined up. We felt a call toward something not only greater but somewhat reckless. We wanted to be like the young, diverse and highly talented crew of the Enterprise. We wanted to save the world. 

My hero was Nyota Uhura. Her aptitude for linguistics is truly unmatched and I needed to be like her. To put my communications skills to use like her. But when I realized my Klingon was parse at best and that I cared more about reporting on what I saw than taking an active part in it; I dropped out. I got into the Journalism program at UCLA. And I started telling stories about real people. Mostly about the people somehow, through six degrees of separation, the Enterprise crew had touched. It all came back together in the end. 

The point is I’ve always had a vested interest in the Enterprise and her crew. I was too old to hero worship them the way my little brother did with holos on the walls of his bedroom and autographs etched into his PADD, but their stories stuck with me. Especially about Captain Kirk and his CMO and soul mate, Leonard McCoy. 

I was a year into my first serious reporting gig when the news first broke. There had been a rippling of tension in the world, starting with leaks from the higher ups that reverberated down the chain of command. Something big had happened but no one knew what. I had been tasked with finding out. 

It all happened so fast, leaving people confused. I had been late to the memorial and I had a glance of a perfect row of security officers, a sea of red, hauling McCoy away from the memorial procession. Whatever noise the exchange brought about, was drowned out by the flyover. 

-  
 **WAZ San Fran Office** \- 12:33 on January 12, 2267

“No.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Agneau, you haven’t heard what I said.”

“I’m not asking him if he remembers the day he was arrested for his husband’s murder, fuck.”

“Why not? The man’s a goddamn murderer.”

“Agneau, do not tell me you believe this man.”

“He didn’t do it, Charlie.”

“Remember SERIAL? Remember this mission here? You set out to report. Not exonerate.”

“We have different ideas of what the mission is, sir.”

“Sir! Fucking hilarious. Sir. Just fucking ask him or I’ll cut your funding in half. You want to take a supply transport to the penal colony, go the fuck ahead.”

“Ever heard of a swear jar, Charlie?”

“Get the fuck out of my office, Agneau.”

-  
 **AGNEAU:** In journalism, we have to ask the difficult questions whether or not we get the response we expect may tell us more about the person and story we’re investigation than we’d expect. I didn’t want to ask Leonard McCoy about one of the worst days in his life, the day Jim was put to rest and he was arrested for his murder, but I had to. I had to know and so do you. 

**Agneau:** Do you remember? That day?  
 **McCoy:** Which one?  
 **Agneau:** The day you were arrested.  
 **McCoy:** Of course I remember. Even if I didn’t want to. It’s there.  
 **Agneau:** And-  
 **McCoy:** I’m guessing you’re going to want me to tell you about it.  
 **Agneau:** If you can.  
 **McCoy:** Not much to say. Everything was going by so fast. They say things slow down with grief. And it did. When they first came to tell me that they had found Ji-when they had found the remains. But then, that morning, I felt like I was on to many stims. And then one of our friends, a security officer came to come get me. Came to warn me, I guess. I’ve never gotten like that.  
 **Agneau:** Like what?  
 **McCoy:** I was trained to triage. But I couldn’t focus. They arrested me and I couldn’t focus. I don’t remember what happened. They said I assaulted a guard. But I don’t remember that. 

**AGNEAU:** He did assault a guard. The same man, who saved countless of lives in both the Narada and Harrison disasters, sent a security officer to med bay. This isn’t surprising to some. McCoy has been described as acerbic, sarcastic, biting, a bit rough around the edges. In our first conversations, he told me in so many words, “Fuck off.” But in our interviews since, he’s always been polite. From what I can tell, it’s as if his rough edges have been brutally cut off. There’s nothing left sharp about him. He doesn’t have the fight left in him. It got used up right before he was arrested, he says. He’s dejected. 

**McCoy:** Hard not to be when so many people don’t believe me. 

**AGNEAU:** Believe what, you ask? In the first years of his imprisonment, he vehemently denied his indictment. He even insisted Jim was alive. Alive! And how could he tell? Well, by the same things that made him so famous. His soul mate markings. 

-

 **Unknown M Class Planet** -January 20, 2267

James T. Kirk scratched at his arm. It looked like the arm of an eighty-year-old man, men he’d seen in old holos of military veterans, scorched marks done in solidarity barely recognizable from age. His were no such marks. He was thirty-two-years old and had the tattoos of someone twice, maybe three times his age. And they hurt. 

He missed his husband. 

“Any luck yet?” A voice---wispy and throaty all the same--- carried from somewhere behind him. Despite himself, he jumped. 

“Jesus Christ, Lenore.”

The blonde ducked under some sheet metal that had been buckling for months, sidestepped a dusty crate and toed a chair over to set beside him. She sat backwards, of course, straddling the chair like she straddled most of her enemies before killing them. “How’s it going?”

“Almost.” His fingers were the color of rust, crusted with grease and particles he’d rather not think about inhaling. Bones would have a heart attack if he knew what-he swallowed the thought and tried to grab at the smallest wire he needed to reattach. His fingers shook. 

“Let me,” Lenore said. 

He turned his back on her. “I’ve got it.”

“Jimmy, will you just-“

“I said I’ve got it!” He snapped and dropped the circuit onto the makeshift table. It clattered. Dust whirled around and he sneezed. 

She huffed a breath. “Your sausage fingers aren’t going to do the trick, you know?”

“And your dainty ones will?” He picked up the piece again. “You know, you’ve taken everything else from me. This is the only thing I can do.”

She sat back down. “That’s not fair. We both decided-“

“When did I decide to be taken, huh? When did I decide to get everything ripped away from me?”

Five years ago, he’d been abducted. It was like being in a coma, perhaps a haze most of which he couldn’t account for. A year and a half ago, he’d woken up from what seemed like a bad dream, to Lenore Karidian breaking him out of captivity. She’d told him what the men who took him told him; there was nothing to go back to. Everyone who mattered thought he was gone. Everyone who mattered had forgotten. 

Except the ones who still held Jim’s crew and Bones over his head. The ones who knew how to make Jim ache, more so than he had already done. He thought Bones was dead already; they assured Jim that he’d wish he were.

“You just wait. We’ll get our revenge.”

“I’m not looking for revenge!” He closed his eyes, tight, counted away the migraine that threatened. Jim’s head hurt like it did most days. The light from the auxiliary lights making every twinge becomes a pounding problem behind his eyes. But he needed to focus. Lenore thought they were waiting for an opportunity to get back home. Jim was waiting for an opportunity to be heard. 

“You should be. If anything, my father taught us-“

“Your father didn’t teach me anything.”

“He taught you to survive.”

Jim got up to push past her. If he couldn’t create a separate power source for the radio, he’d have to plug it in. “No. I taught myself that.”

He risked overloading the scrap heap their ship was. It was one of only a few pieces that they could risk using, God knew how long they’d be here and they still needed the main support systems--the makeshift bridge and mess. But he needed this to work. 

Lenore jumped up, the metal chair scraping the floor with jerky movements. “What are you doing?”

“I’m plugging it in.”

“Fuck, what if you electrocute yourself-“

Jim reached down, blew on the jack and prayed. “I’m alright.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

The last person to say that to Jim cared so much more. And he died because of it. Jim plugged in the radio. 

It sparked. 

A loud pop. 

Jim hissed as his fingers took a brunt of whatever just happened and the lights dimmed with the whir of a shut-off generator. The last extra one they had. 

Lenore swore. 

And then static. 

But through it, when there was a second of clarity and the static dimmed, Jim heard a woman’s voice:

_“This is….Francisco…Ellipsis picking up where the story left off…we’re investigating…”_


	2. What We Talk About When We Talk About Soul-Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Somewhere in the universe, two young boys developed tattoos…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Sorry for the wait…and the formatting issues. Thanks also to Rochester for her awesome beta-ing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: What We Talk about When We Talk About Soul-Mates**

**-**

**To:** a.agneau@kazradio.org

 **From:** c.clarke@kazradio.org

Agneau,

Christ almighty, which cares how it’s spelled. ‘Soul-mates’, ‘soulmates’, ‘soul mates’. Whatever. It’s a radio show! No one will be reading anything. And if they want a transcript they can suck it. But seriously, just make sure you get an interview with McCoy about it. Listeners want to hear from him, you know? For all that I had to go through to get the damn interview and what with the Warden up my ass, you’d think you’d put it to good use. Just get your sound bites and get the hell out, alright?

-Charlie

**\---**

**_Ellipsis_ Episode 2 “What We Talk About When We Talk About Soul-mates” Transcript**

**ADMIRAL BARNETT:** Support from Ellipsis comes from the Starfleet Survivor’s Fund. Doing what we can for those who served.

 **ALICIA AGNEAU:** _Previously on Ellipsis…_

We’re investigating the case of 32 year-old Leonard McCoy charged with the death of his soul mate.”

 **ARISTELLA OBONHEUR:** The lack of DNA at the crime scene. I mean, McCoy was a doctor and I’m sure he would have handled it well, but there was no permissible evidence. It was odd that it took five years for them to figure this out but I’m glad they did. 

 **AGNEAU:** …We received a note. It read simply: Leonard McCoy is innocent. So is he? ...In the first years of his imprisonment, he vehemently denied his indictment. He even insisted Jim was alive. Alive! And how could he tell? Well, by the same things that made him so famous. His soul-mate markings.

_“From WAZ San Francisco, this is Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. My name is Alicia Agneau.”_

**AGNEAU:** Somewhere in the universe, two young boys developed tattoos. Not only was this incredibly uncommon for their age—if the markings develop at all, they don’t usually occur until puberty—but a rare phenomenon on it’s own. Leonard McCoy notices a starburst marking on the inside of his elbow when he’s seven-years-old. It stings a little, as the first sign of a soul-mate must, and he’s fascinated by it. James Kirk doesn’t notice his tattoos until someone points it out to him. And his is a line of random numbers. For the next several years the tattoos occur at a rapid pace. Adults around Jim and Leonard tell them that they are lucky to have a map written out so clearly to the person they are meant to be with. The adults think they must be very special. The children don’t understand. And when Jim is thirteen and Leonard is seventeen, the tattoos stop. They don’t begin again until nine years later when both boys have hit what Leonard McCoy calls, “rock bottom.” And then they enlisted in Starfleet.

                               **AGNEAU:** Dr. Goor, can you tell me a little bit about the normal progression of soul-mate markings?

 **DEV GOOR** : Of course. You see, the initial markings occur between the ages of 14-16 for male and

                             then you get one every five to ten years depending on when they start.

 **AGNEAU:** So every soul-mate pair has approximately the same amount of tattoos?

 **DEV GOOR** : Not necessarily. This is where the intersection of science and fate collides, Ma’am. You see, 

                           some believe that the closer you are to finding your soul-mate, the more tattoos you are given. Some believe

                          that it’s the opposite. And science tells us it’s a response to the environment.

 **AGNEAU:** Dev Goor is a psychologist and biologist who specialize in soul-mate markings. His work has been recognized by the President as being revolutionary to the field. Dr. Goor’s studies have been instrumental in helping scientists, behaviorists, psychologists to examine and research soul-mates and markings on an evolutionary basis. His work is truly remarkable.

                         **AGNEAU:** A response to the environment as in a literal map?

 **GOOR:** Some would postulate that, yes. So in the case of James Kirk’s markings, his first was a coordinate. And

                    that allowed for a physical location to be uncovered. But McCoy’s was a star, I believe? So that may have been more

                    of a clue to Starfleet of Kirk’s unorthodox birth in the stars? You see the only one who can truly discover the meanings

                    of the tattoos are the people themselves. By divulging the discoveries of the marks to one another, the idea is that a

                    host of things will make sense, as if there has been a magnetic pulling one another toward each other and the tattoo

                    is meant to be a highlight of those points.

 **AGNEAU** : What about the fact that the tattoos appeared at such a rapid rate and so young? And then for them to stop?

 **GOOR:** Well, see that is unheard of. Truly. I still teach this case in my classes, even though I’ve received criticism due to

                   the controversy. But how can I not? What you have here is a paradox wrapped in a soul-mate enigma. It’s almost unbelievable

                   and typically unheard of. So, they’re either meant to be or it was a hoax.

 **AGNEAU:** So what do you believe, Doctor?

 **GOOR:** I am a man of science. I look at facts. I want to believe their story. I want to believe every soul-mate story.

                   My own soul-mate, Maggie and I are very happy. And we know how rare that happiness that is. But we found each

                   other when I was working on my second doctorate at UCLA. My third tattoo didn’t emerge until just before I started

                   there. So for those men to have had up to three tattoos before some of us had our one? That’s unheard of. But not

                   impossible.

 **AGNEAU:** And what do you say to those who question that soul-mates even exist?

 **GOOR:** The naysayers need to decide what it is about the phenomenon that they dislike. They’ve been against soul-mates          

                   since the invention of the warp core. And they’re arguments are getting redundant. At first it was because our world was too

                   small. Than we made first contact and it was because our world is too big. Now it’s because people want free-will. Enough already!

                   As a scientist, I can prove that soul-mates exist, that the markings are real. They aim to disprove it because they don’t understand

                   it and are afraid of it. They are not unlike the creationists in some ways.

 **AGNEAU:** Why do you think they’ve used the Kirk-McCoy case as the paradigm for their argument?

 **GOOR** : Easy. Because either way it makes soul-mates look bad. If they were faking then all soul-mates must be for

                  recognition; if they were not then it’s absolutely horrible for a mate to have murdered the other. It is a Catch-22. They were once

                  lauded for this, were they not? And now the press and media have turned against them and the naysayers have spoken.

                  It’s created quite a paradigm shift, so to speak.

 **AGNEAU:** One woman who remembers just how much McCoy and Kirk were lauded when the soul-mate story broke is Ashley Morgansteen, Editor at _People_ Magazine. _  
_

**ASHLEY MORGANSTEEN** : My first big break at _People_ was the Kirk-McCoy soul-mate story. I mean we were so optimistic and thrilled to report it. Most of the stories where soul-mates found each other were people in middle age or ninety-eight years old traveling their life long journey across the ‘verse to follow their soul-markings. So to have Starfleet cadets-and George Kirk’s son nonetheless, I mean it was news. Big news.

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** What was so stunning about this case was the rapid rate of the tattoos. I’m sure you’ve talked to Dr. Goor

               about his findings. And out of the hundreds of soul-mates he’s researched and spoken to, no one reported the markings presenting

               that young or in such quick succession. And not only am I historian but I’m also the preserver of soul-mate myth and records at the

               Soul-Markings historical society out of Taos, New Mexico with the help of Dr. Goor. Leonard and James were weary about talking to

               us but once they did we found out a wealth of knowledge about how these markings, or colloquially tattoos, work and the results

              were fascinating.

 **AGNEAU:** What were the results?

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD** : Well, we were finally able to come up with a scientific rebuttal for Joel Ephram—that cultural anthropologist--

             and Kathleen Coulter, who might as well be just an outspoken critic of true love and fate. But that’s beside the point. Our findings

             were that there is a correlation between free will and the soul-markings. James and Leonard didn’t necessarily follow these markings

             and still, look where it lead them. Their environment brought them together, even if they didn’t necessarily follow them.

 **AGNEAU:** Most people would say that it led them to tragedy.

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** Well, most people don’t believe that Leonard McCoy is guilty.

 **AGNEAU:** What makes you say that?

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** (laughing) Soul-mates aren’t capable of murdering their soul-mate. Every chance, opportunity, choice etc. had led

            Leonard and James together. There is no way it could have ended the way it supposedly did.

 **AGNEAU:**  There are many who would agree with Tilly. In the rare case when a soul-mate is the prime suspect in a crime against their soul-mate, judges have thrown out said cases just due to the fact that it was once believed that a soul-mate could never be capable of the crime. People have treated and still treat the soul-mate phenomenon as sacred, reverently speaking about it as if it was a religion or faith to follow. Yet, as we have seen, people have also spoken out against it. Our universe has grown so much---as we add new planets to the federation, as we uncover black holes and alternate universes---that some say the idea of just one unique soul-mate out of all the beings in the verse, past or present, is preposterous. One such naysayer is Joel Ephram, as Tilly mentioned, a scholar, and cultural anthropologist. He’s also written a number of books on the subject including _Soul Markings: The Maps to Our Soul-mates._

 **AGNEAU** The McCoy-Kirk case has brought up a lot of speculation about the soul-mate phenomenon, especially now with McCoy’s appeal

            and his claims of innocence. People have chosen a side it seems. You’ve become an outspoken opponent of soul-mates, despite being

            an expert. Why is that?

 **JOEL EPHRAM:** Why? Because of how easy it is to fake it. I think it would be easy for anyone to say that they’ve found a soul-mate by

            faking the tattoos. I mean, look at Alias, the new company manufacturing the things. As for why I’m an expert in it but not a believer,

            well, I think I have all the facts so I know that that while the phenomenon is quite fascinating, I believe that they might as well be

            extinct today.

 **AGNEAU:** What makes you say that?

 **JOEL EPHRAM:** This isn’t the world of our great-grandparents, even grandparents anymore. Our world is that much larger, the

           probability of encountering another being that is meant for you is just slim. Starfleet has allowed us to explore more corners of

           the universe and that has opened us up to be changeable. Why follow the tattoos? Why wait? And so, we’ve adapted so that the

           markings no longer appear and it’s all left up to greater chance.

 **AGNEAU:** So you’re saying that generations ago, the tattoos were a way of bringing people together who might not have had

          the opportunity to branch out?

 **JOEL EPHRAM:** Precisely. There’s really no need for them anymore. I believe that any case that comes up of soul-mates, as in the

          case of Leonard McCoy and Captain Kirk is suspect.

 **AGNEAU:** You don’t believe that they were real?

 **JOEL EPRHAM:** I believe that the phenomenon is not what it was centuries ago. I believe that it can be used as an excuse by a generation

         who hopes to find their soul-mates again in the tumult and destruction of a chaotic age. Romanticism. Optimism. And this case has

         brought that to light. Exposed the sham that it is.

 **AGNEAU:**  Joel Ephram isn’t the only one who has similar beliefs towards soul-mates. Social commenter and columnist, and controversial author of _Soulless: Realism in the Federation_ Kathleen Collier said:

 **KATHLEEN COLLIER:** Oh God, why are we still talking about soul-mates? How many times do I have to stay it? Soul-mates are a thing of a distant

         past when we were co-dependent and forced into societal norms. Obviously, we live in an age where we can be free of such obligations.

         Please, dear God, get rid of the tattoos, markings, whatever. Abolish the idea of soul-mates and tell the press to shut up about it, already.

 **AGNEAU:** And what do you believe about the Kirk-McCoy case?

 **KATHLEEN COLLIER:** God only knows who suckered whom into that relationship. Everyone knows from the scuttlebutt that Kirk was a

        playboy at the Academy. So why pretend they were soul-mates? Probably for the publicity. Or maybe Kirk tricked McCoy into it? Faked

        the markings and such. And McCoy killed him for it.

 **AGNEAU:** That’s a pretty serious accusation against a decorated Captain.

 **KATHLEEN COLLIER:** Not a Captain anymore, though, am I right? Didn’t they make him admiral posthumously or something? Anyway,

      I’m just saying what everyone was thinking. That’s my job. I don’t give about PC or disgracing a dead man’s memory. Kirk wasn’t a saint.

     You should look further into him in your investigation. I’m sure you’ll find all sorts of interesting information.

 **Agneau:** Alexi Morton of _The Sun_ had a different perspective.

 **ALEXI MORGAN:** McCoy. McCoy was faking it. Undeniably. Look at all the sources that say that people fake the tattoos, fake the Soul-mate

         encounters. He fits the profile.

 **AGNEAU:** That’s interesting. Your evidence?

 **ALEXI MORTON:** Evidence? Well, his first marriage collapsed. That’s evidence. And Kirk’s parents were so-called soul-mates. So it would

        have been so easy for McCoy, who was purportedly Kirk’s best friend before the soul-mate encounter, to use this to his advantage.

        To make sure he was never dumped again. And Kirk was a playboy! Scoring him would have been the best con in the ‘verse.

 **AGNEAU:** You think McCoy is a con man?

 **ALEXI MORTON:** Con Men come in many forms, Miss Agneau. He must have known he would get in some trouble. Having Kirk as a

       soul-mate would have been his best defense. His best insurance policy.

 **AGNEAU:** The theories and skepticism on the soul-mate issue abound. It almost seems as if the Federation has come down as a whole against McCoy. There was no way that McCoy and Kirk could have been mates because there was no way murder was capable. They were just acting. They were avoiding suspicion. Both were so broken that they made sense of their tattoos in the only way they knew how---with each other. Dalin L’Oh, Communications Officer on the USS Kennedy and old classmate of Kirk and McCoy had this to say

 **DALIN L’OH:** No, they were definitely in love. I mean, I come from a planet that doesn’t believe in soul-mates but if I did, they were it. It wasn’t clear who was following whom around the academy. I mean, you have to understand the scuttlebutt to follow but Jim Kirk was quite the ladies man and so to see him trailing around McCoy like one of Archer’s puppies, we were all a bit shocked. Well, some of us.

 **AGNEAU** : Areel Shaw assisted McCoy’s defense attorney along with her husband Sam Cogley. She has been a driving force in the appeal’s process for McCoy. 

 **AREEL SHAW:** This ridicule has got to stop. James T. Kirk loved Leonard McCoy and the feeling was mutual. I was with Kirk for a bit,

          we had a brief romance, but when he broke it off, I understood, especially after the soul-mate encounter. Whatever happened that

          day, it was surely not McCoy’s fault. You don’t get to be the golden boy of the federation without making a few enemies. Why wasn’t

          the suspect pool wider?

 **AGNEAU** : You’re talking about the fact that there were no other suspects.

 **AREEL SHAW:** Yes. I think that’s quite discriminatory, isn’t it? The Court was just fixated on this soul-mate case. And their star witness-

 **AGNEAU:** Gary Mitchell?

 **AREEL SHAW:** Yes, Gary Mitchell. I think the court didn’t look into him enough. 

-

**From Alicia Agneau’s Comm Unit:**

**To:** Lieutenant N. Uhura, _USS Enterprise_

 **From:** Alicia Agneau, _KAZ Radio_

 Dear Lieutenant Uhura,

I apologize for emailing you again but my last comm. didn’t go through and I was unsure if you received it. I’m not sure if you remember me but you helped tutor me in Vulcan during my brief venture at the Academy. I would very much appreciate your help again. I understand that you most be remarkably busy at this time. However, I believe you would be a fantastic source in the Ellipsis investigation. I know that it must be a sensitive topic but please know that I’m doing everything in my power to tell the story in a truthful and concise manner. Your testimony would greatly help. Please reply at your convenience.

 

-

 

 **To:** Commander H. Sulu, _USS Enterprise_

 **From:** Alicia Agneau, _KAZ Radio_

 

Hello Commander Sulu,

 

I apologize for the inconvenience of this message as I’m sure you are incredibly busy on your journey back to Earth. I hope I’m not being too forward but I just thought that with the Enterprise due back to Earth soon that we could set up an interview. I have heard that some crew members on board the Enterprise have listened to the Radio show. I was hoping you would be among them. I would very much like to have more sources, especially sources once close to Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk to help set the record straight. I mean no disrespect, only to assist in honoring Captain Kirk’s memory by telling an accurate account of this horrible tragedy. Please let me know if you’re willing to aid me in finding out the truth.

 

-

 **To:** Captain S'chn T'gai Spock, _USS Enterprise_

 **From:** Alicia Agneau, _KAZ Radio_

 

Captain Spock,

 

At this point, my previous attempts to contact your crew have gone unanswered. I understand that both you and your crew have been preoccupied as you return to Earth. However, I believe that your assistance in Ellipsis would be both mutually beneficially to us both. You benefit from telling an accurate version of events from your---and the crew’s---perspective, while I have a broader point of view to tell this narrative. I am not one of the gossip reporter’s looking to sully Captain Kirk’s memory. I merely want to get this right. Allow me to be the one to do that. Thank you.

 

-

 

 **To:** c.clarke@kazradio.org

 **From:** a.agneau@kazradio.org

 

I’m not going to acknowledge the profanity or highly inappropriate and suggestive comments with any further discussion. As usual, that’s your business. I think staying in New Zealand for a little while longer to interview McCoy might be a wise decision. The Warden will allow it. She appreciates a true narrative, unlike someone else I know. And she believes McCoy. Also, unlike someone I know. So just let me do my job, okay? You might actually like the results.

 

-A

 

 _ **Ellipsis**_ Episode Two Transcript Continued:

 

 **AGNEAU:** Now before I get anywhere further into Gary Mitchell, I feel like I must backtrack a bit. Well, a lot. You see, many people keep accusing McCoy of “faking it.” An article in San Francisco Chronicle reported that over 58% of reported Soul-Mate encounters are false. Either the person was led to believe that the tattoos were a match or the tattoos themselves were a fake. But how? And could this have been the case with McCoy? We asked the CEO of Alias Corporations, the innovator in Manufactured Soul-Markings and Soul-Mate discovery tours.

 **ADRIAN CREEK** : Omnia sunt possibilia. Anything is possible is our motto here at Alias. But we have done a lot of work to

             shed the negative stigma associated with our corporation. We’re in the business of creation and happiness…not destruction.

 **AGNEAU:** Some would argue that a company that aids people in faking soul-mate tattoos is actually the definition of destruction.

            Destruction of hope.

 **CREEK:** Oh no. Quite the opposite. The very creation of hope. People need something to believe in and if they have to go through our

           soul-marking process to get that, than who can judge?

 **AGNEAU:** Can you explain your soul-marking process?

 **CREEK:** Well, we’re in the beta testing stages. And we have specific guidelines about who should use it. Our process is only for beings over

          the age of 18 and those without soul markers. We don’t want to match you with someone when your soul-mate might be out there.

         That’s why we have our tour branch of the corporation. But through an advanced process we help match you with another being

         in our database by providing you with the markings to meet. Testing is done on a genetic level, taking into account just about

        everything from personality to environment. We think we’ve cracked these so called “fate-given” soul-markings by allowing others

        to have a similar experience.

 **AGNEAU:** One could argue that if fate didn’t give you a soul-mate, perhaps you’re not meant to have one.

 **CREEK:** I’m sure fate could argue many things, Alicia. But everyone has a right to be happy.

        **AGNEAU:** Why did you decide to do this when you already had a successful tour company?

 **CREEK:** Well, our luxury cruises were taking a hit as time went on. The universe grew--- as Joel Ephram eloquently states

      in his books---and people no longer had to search far and wide for their mates. And then the markings stopped appearing on

      people’s arms and so we decided to speed up the process. To help manufacture the tattoos.

 **AGNEAU:** But not for all.

 **CREEK:** No, of course not. I have no interest in playing God, Alicia. I have more money than him, why would I need the

      responsibility too?

 **AGNEAU:** What about McCoy? Do you think he could have somehow faked the tattoos? Innovator’s Magazine named your

      Soul-Marking technology among the most advanced they’d seen in years. Mostly, when people try to mark themselves they’re

       found out immediately but with McCoy, it would have been more of a long-con. That would require pretty advanced technology, no?

 **CREEK:** Anything is possible, isn’t it? But if you’re implying that my corporation had anything to do in Mr. McCoy’s…transgressions,

       than you’d be sorely mistaken. We are still in beta-testing, like I mentioned. Five years ago when this crime occurred, we wouldn’t

       have even been public with our plans.

 **AGNEAU:** Oh, I’m not implying anything, Mr. Creek. Just coincidental occurrences. Narratives like these have to be sure to elucidate

       all the possibilities. I wouldn’t be a good investigative journalist if I didn’t explore every lead. I just also find it interesting that five-years

       ago your company almost went bankrupt. And an anonymous donation put you back on the map, so to speak. I don’t think God ever

       had help in creation.

 **CREEK:** We’ll never know, will we?

 **AGNEAU:** While investigators never questioned Creek or his company in relation to the McCoy-Kirk case, conspiracy theorists from

      all around have tried to connect Alias with the crime. But that’s a story for another episode. We still haven’t heard from McCoy himself yet.

 -

**Alicia Agneau’s Email:**

**To:** a.agneau@kazradio.org

 **From:** c.clarke@kazradio.org

God help me, Agneau. God help me. If we get sued by Alias or Adrian fucking Creek for defamation or whatever I will personally see to it that you’re reporting on supply ships to the edge of the neutral zone.

-

**From Alicia Agneau’s Comm.:**

**To:** Alicia Agneau, KAZ Radio

 **From:** Captain S'chn T'gai Spock

 

Please cease your attempts to contact the Crew. You are interfering with our productivity morale.

 -

 _ **Ellipsis**_ Episode Two Transcript Continued:

 **AGNEAU:** This interview and the one in the next episode are the last times I’ll be talking to McCoy over the comm. and I’m grateful and worried about it. You see, McCoy’s voice is one part broken, two parts Southern comfort. I’ve seen pictures of the man from before and after---mostly from the evidence files that I could access through my comm. and his voice doesn’t match. I was worried about matching the pictures I’d seen of McCoy with this new voice. Before he was committed, he looked trustworthy. Long-suffering affection evident in every picture, just an eye-roll away from Jim. That’s how people describe them. McCoy pulled Jim out of the fire more times than anyone---teachers, acquaintances, and friends---could count. He was fiercely loyal and protective. Notoriously grumpy and fluent in what one young Ensign called ‘snarky’. Jim and Leonard were happy. The only time Leonard McCoy broke the law was to get married while a student at the Academy--- which is prohibited by Starfleet and most military branches---and when he snuck his husband onto the Enterprise, an action that saved the world. So how does he feel about the accusations that he and Jim really aren’t soul-mates? Or that he faked it? And how did their apparent soul-mate encounter occur?

 **AGNEAU:** Just tell me what you can. I understand this could be difficult.

 **McCOY:** Got no choice in the matter, do I? But this isn’t about me. I need to make sure people know Jim’s story and…I need

              people to believe me. So they can find him.

               **AGNEAU:** And you said you believe he’s still alive because of your markings?

 **McCOY** : Damn straight. They haven’t aged or faded. I’ve seen a person after the death of their mate at the hospitals and

              as CMO. I know how the markings look. Mine are healthy.

               **AGNEAU:** The unspoken “for now” hung in the air between us but I decided to press on.

 **AGNEAU:** Can you tell me about how you found out that Jim was your soul-mate? You had the tattoos for years but didn’t

              find Jim until much later. You never thought to follow them?

 **McCOY:** I was going to. It was my plan. I would finish Med School and then look. I wanted to settle down after I had my degree.

              And I guess I inherently knew that a med degree would come in handy. Turns out I was right. Jim’s accident prone. But ah…

             my dad got sick. And my mama was having a hard time. They were soul-mates too. So I put my search on hold.

 **AGNEAU:** I remember reading in Tilly Englewood’s notes that children of soul-mates are twice as likely to have soul-mates themselves.

              **AGNEAU:** And then you got married.

 **McCOY:** I did. Joce and I…I thought that maybe we were a match. My first marking is a star. Her middle name is Astrid,

             as in Astra, as in Latin for Star. I was wrong. I didn’t know enough about how it worked, following the soul-markings and

            we dated a bit in high school. She had separated from her actual soul-mate though she didn’t know it at the time and I

            needed someone. We were young. I thought it could work.

  **JOCELYN TREADWAY:** Len’s daddy was sick and Clay, my husband, didn’t believe in the soul-markings. He said he didn’t want to be together because of fate. I was twenty-one. I was heartbroken. And I gravitated toward Len. And I swear we held onto each other for years like we were each other’s life-lines. But I was holding him back from happiness and not allowing myself to find my own. And then when his daddy died, well, it was time Len went on his search.

           **McCOY:** I was a bit lost after Jocelyn left me. I really did think that she was my soul-mate. I just felt stuck but I was okay with that.

          My dad’s death hit me hard. And I wanted to stay with my mama, to be honest. But no one was having any of that. Jocelyn basically

          forced me out of town and at the time I thought it was a bitter divorce tactic but it ended up being the best thing for me.

 **AGNEAU:** So you chose Starfleet?

           **McCOY:** Had no money left for those fancy Alias tours and Starfleet seemed like the best way to explore the ‘verse and use my

           skills. They say that your intuition helps guide you to your mate but I can thank a hip flask of Jack and a split second decision to get

           on a shuttle toward Riverside, Iowa.

 **LIEUTENANT LEE BREZNAN:** Oh I wish I had it on holo. McCoy stumbles into the office and asks to see our Recruitment head. And at the time, Admiral Pike, rest his soul, was finishing up some last minute things in the office. He takes one look at McCoy and grins. Seriously. McCoy looked like a light breeze woulda knocked him down. And Pike rolls back on his feet like we just scored a turkey dinner! He says, “I have a feeling you have a lot to offer, son.” And just like that they walk back into his office and go talk. I woulda never guessed he was a doctor. He looked like some washed up townie! But Pike was all about taking in strays that day. I mean, Kirk was a lucky fluke too. Damn sorry the way it all turned out.

  **McCOY:** Now, I don’t know how many people know this about me but I’m aviophobic. Not that bad anymore since Jim helped me with it but I was. Used to have nightmares that I was trapped on the Kelvin every time Remembrance Day came around and they played what little footage they had. So I was a bit, well, Jack also helped me set foot on that Shuttle in Riverside because there was no way I was getting on without a little liquid courage. I was all set to hide in the head when I’m busted by this ball-busting Lieutenant who forces me into a seat. Should have someone send her a gift basket. Only empty seat left was next to Jim, who at the time looked about as worse as I felt. I wish I could say that I knew then and there. That rainbow shot out of our asses or a spark shocked us when our fingers brushed passing each other my hip flask. But no, we were both broken idiots. Took a while before we figured things out.

  **AGNEAU:** It astonishes me that when I hear McCoy speak about Jim, I want to believe him. I want to revel in their story, how fate was as McCoy calls her “shit-stirring brat just as worse as Jim,” but I cannot. It’s not that easy. Every person in the Federation has been conditioned to believe that McCoy did it. And now I’m asking you to undo that. And even then, I cannot lawfully conclude that Leonard McCoy is innocent or that Jim’s still alive. But I can help share his story and puzzle together the pieces with the rest of you. So until next time, we’ll have to struggle together with what to believe.

 -

  **Unknown M Class Planet:**

 The thing was, Jim had spent a lot of his life wondering if he was bad luck.

 Bones had spent many days (and nights) directly (and indirectly) trying to prove the exact opposite was true.

 But here they were.

 Jim was presumed dead. And the universe thought Bones had killed him.

 “Well, fuck.” Lenore said from behind him. She blew all of her breath out so that her bangs, cut angular around her face, flew up in all directions. “Why do you bother listening to that?”

 There was a time when Jim would have told Lenore anything. She was bad luck too. He was never afraid of hurting her or causing her more pain. She knew all too well about being broken and unlucky. Her mother died when she two---now they realized her father had probably killed her---and Kodos, well, batshit crazy only covered half of it.

 “I need to know what’s going on.” He turned the dial, hissing when it sparked. _Fucking thing._

 “No, we need to get back to work. Engines this week, remember?”

 He could have told her that the engines weren’t going to work. They hadn’t been run and years and whatever happened to this ship had subjected it to rest in a dusty graveyard. They were close, he knew, to Tarsus. And he couldn’t help but think of the way the sky was turquoise in the morning and red at night, the way the wheat grass and dust particles danced together in the breeze. It was too quiet here and the quiet, like most things these past few months, drew him crazy. It’s why, against Lenore’s wishes, he started tinkering with the radio. He needed sound, even if it was just static. He never would have guessed he would have gotten to hear Bones’ voice again. Even through layers of static, even though light years of distance, bounced signals and broken communication arrays, he was hearing his husband’s voice. And god, it made him feel better than he ever thought was possible.

 He thought the woman was right—this Agneau lady who got to talk to Bones when Jim could not. He did sound wrecked. His voice was not unlike when Jim would be prepped for surgery, an away mission gone wrong and no time to say goodbye, just Bones trying to tell him it would be okay. Jim wasn’t sure it would be okay this time.

 “Len, maybe we should focus on the communication arrays instead or…we can see if we can rewire the radio, get it to output a signal-“

 She was already shaking her head. “Too dangerous, Jimmy.”

 Time was, Jim was as insouciant as they came. His Mom joked once at another medal ceremony she actually got to attend that they should add ‘Risk’ to his middle name. He didn’t care about danger.

 “But if we could reach someone, anyone-“

 “Not out here.”

 “I know the secure channels, Lenore. We don’t have to worry about any of Alias picking anything up.”

 “You don’t think they’re monitoring any frequencies? Hell, don’t you think they would have someone in Starfleet, keeping an ear out to see if you made contact? They’re not morons.”

 He tried the dial again. He needed sound. Anything other than Lenore’s voice and his own thoughts. Maybe they would replay the show and he could catch what he missed.

 Lenore swatted his hand away. “Will you stop? For one minute?”

 He glared at her. “Fuck you, Lenore. If you want to leave so badly, just do it. I’m sure you can figure out a way.”

She rubbed the palm of her hand between her eyes. “Too late.”

 He stood up. “What do you mean?”

 “It’s too late to just leave, Jim. They know where we are.”

 He felt the familiar hum of adrenaline. _Let them come._

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “Because I didn’t want you trying something idiotic. Like you’re prone to do. And it would have only got you and everyone you ever met killed. You contact your beloved soul-mate and they’ll make it look like an accident. Hell, something would happen to the Enterprise before Starfleet scrambled to send a rescue ship this way. And you know it. There are too many tangles in this knot. We have to play like we were taught to play, Jimmy.”

 He’d also spent a good enough time pretending he hadn’t learned anything on Tarsus. Enough knocks to the head in bar fights and alcohol assisted sleep had helped. Section 31 had wanted to recruit him based on his testimony on Tarsus alone. Apparently they thought, at fourteen, he had enough survival skills to put to good use in intelligence. He told them, in a few choice languages, to fuck themselves. His trauma gave him raw talent. And they had wanted him to tap into it. He wasn’t even sure he knew how.

 And now Lenore wanted him to try.

 “Stop pretending you’re so high and mighty,” Lenore said after a moment of silence. She did take the recruitment in Section 31 only to disappear five years ago. Jim had gone to her funeral. “I’ve read the reports about Khan. You’ve figured this shit out way before I brought it up.”

 

He wanted to hit her. He settled for taking a shot of whiskey they found in the remains of what was probably the Captain’s quarters.

 

“Listen,” She said, taking the glass from him and grasping his hand, her warm fingers warming up his frigid ones. “I know, okay? I thought I would bury it. But look how I turned out?” She gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s time to walk among our nightmares. Dad’s coming back. And he’s got one of the richest men in the ‘verse in his pocket. We better give him a hell of a fight.”

 

And Jim would. Jim would fight. He would turn into the monster Kodos had wanted to shape him into. He was going to do it for Bones. Because at the end of this, even if he didn’t survive, he could sure as hell try to bring his soul-mate some closure. And in this mess, that was maybe the best they could hope for.


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a plan. Hopefully it works.

**UNKNOWN M CLASS PLANET-**

There’s no way of knowing who’s coming for them. It could be the entirety of Alias’ security team, Adrian Creek’s hired hitman, or Kodos himself. 

They go over their shitty plan a few hundred times—all Lenore’s ideas because Jim refuses to take the credit for this if it’s goes south—running contingencies and back up plans for back up plans. 

He can’t keep getting his crew’s voices out of his heads: Spock’s insistence of how “illogical” this must all be, Bones’ string of swear words, Sulu’s ready for anything attitude-it echoes all around them on the Bridge, a ghost of another ship.

Finally, Lenore slaps him on the back and lays back in the busted up Captain’s chair she pushed him out of. “This isn’t that bad; we’ve done worse.”

No, they hadn’t. But he doesn’t say that. 

There’s a crack in the ceiling and he can look at the stars above. Thank fuck they landed on a planet that had breathable oxygen. 

“Did I ever thank you for getting me out of there?” Jim asks. 

“If you’re going to start getting sentimental, I better get the rest of the whisky.” Lenore replies.

“Seriously.”

“No, I don’t think you did. I believe you were too busy bitching about getting back to Earth.”

Jim tears his gaze away from the stars, stops imagining the Enterprise landing just above them, beaming them out. “Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Princess.”

They lapse into silence again. They don’t know how much time they have. After spending the day salvaging whatever they could from the ruins, they started building. Jim knows his way around spare parts and Lenore’s a survivalist, born and bred. The two of them cobble together makeshift weapons that he thinks his Chief Engineer would be proud of. 

Bones would probably frown at him for burning up his fingers; at least they stopped shaking. 

“You think any of these poor bastards survived?” Lenore asks him out of the quiet. 

Jim sits up. “You’re speculating? Did hell freeze over or did Lenore Kodos actually wonder about someone other than herself?”

Lenore was never one for using her imagination as a kid and it held over until adulthood. She had to be prodded to play, to think outside of reality. She was like Spock, Jim guessed and the thought made him smile. He could imagine them meeting. He hoped they got the chance. 

“Don’t call me that,” Lenore whispered. “It’s Karidian.”

“Not much better.” 

“Fuck you, Jim.”

“I’m just saying. You have to make peace with that sometime. You want to run from your father, that’s fine. Hell, I don’t blame you. But you can’t run from the truth of it.”

“Like you can talk. Your father was a hero. You have no clue what this feels like.”

“No. But we’re in the same boat now, aren’t we?” Jim asked. 

She blows out her breath, a common move these days and sat back in the Captain’s chair. He could almost see her closing her eyes, settling into her thoughts, ready for sleep. 

“Guess so.” She murmurs. And then: “So, did they survive?”

Jim had seen the damage to the ship, the way it was scattered around as if it had been blown apart from inside. Whatever had hit it had done so head on and had meant for the largest amount of casualties. “Don’t know.”

She grunts and just seconds later, starts snoring. 

Jim envies her; he never slept easy. All his life he would push through exhaustion, riding around on adrenaline to get him through. He hated what he saw when he closed his eyes, the thoughts that drifted through his head as he fell asleep. They were his worst moments, when everything slowed and he had to come to terms with what he’d done during the day, usually things he didn’t want to think about. 

With Bones it had been easy. One arm slung around his waist and a tangle of legs and he was out. Could settle into something comfortable and warm. All the soul-mate bullshit that new age people sprouted, like that lady Tilly Eaglewood, was true. Your soul-mate made everything calmer, better. You could be your true self when you had found him or her, which is why most people floundered around without one. It was fucking ridiculous all the same. He didn’t believe in it until he and Bones had realized that their tattoos told the same story, led one another down the same path. And now? Now he was without. If Kodos or any of Adrian Creek’s men at Alias didn’t kill him, Jim was sure that the absence away from his husband would. 

All he could do was linger. Most nights if Len was feeling charitable, she’d give him a hypo to sleep. They both tried to avoid that at all costs though. The induced sleep felt too much like what he was put through when he was first captured and the side effects when he woke up were pretty shitty. 

Tonight, he’ll have to deal with it on his own. 

When it didn’t come, he got up off the helmsman’s chair (they weren’t sleeping in any quarters tonight for fear of the imminent attack) and padded around. 

The USS Antares, from what Lenore and Jim could tell, was once a rescue ship. Made sense. Only thing out here on this side of the ‘verse was Tarsus IV. But Jim had never heard of a ship destroyed on its way to help the dying colony. Maybe this was why. Too late now. 

He walks aimlessly though the halls, half exposed to the outside and half insulated by the ship’s guts. He winds up in the Captain’s quarters, a room a bit smaller than what he had on the Enterprise, and lopsided. He has to walk down a slope to get to the main section of the room, careful not to trip on detritus along the way. 

They took whatever they thought they could use when they first explored. The whiskey, some rations, clothes. But Jim needs something to do, so he kicks at the debris on the floor, reaches into drawers stuck into furniture, rechecking for anything he might have missed. 

A huge volume falls at his feet, a dust cloud exploding as it lands. He coughs into his shoulder as it settles, swiping away the particles with his hand. 

_THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE._

Jim bends down to pick it up, wondering how the fuck such a thing survived. His own collection of books is probably sitting in the Iowa farmhouse right now, rotting and dust-covered. There was no one else to bequeath them too. Not with Bones gone and space on the ship such a luxury. No need to store a dead Captain’s things. 

It’s impossible not to flip through a Shakespeare book and not think of those first days in the Tarsus Academy. Heavy thick red books were presented to them, the gifted classmates that Kodos decided to teach himself. They were gifts, antique anthologies with thin waxy paper and notes written in the margins. “From the best of men before you.” Kodos said as he’d stand over one of their shoulders as they puzzled out a line from _Henry IV_. 

They read a lot of plays on Tarsus, in classrooms that kept the dust out, where the heat of the day touched only the windows and Jim could see the workers in the distance, or the scientists milling about. It was in that classroom that he caught the first troubled look of the Head Scientist, executed three hours later for bringing Kodos the news of the failing crop while they were reading _Hamlet._

“Do you know what made all these heroes week, James?” Kodos asked one day. He always singled Jim out as if the Governor could trace the path of Jim’s thoughts far away and up out of the stars. 

He’d steal glances at the others—Lenore biting her fingernails, Tommy with his cheek pressed up against another drawing etched into the wood of his desk- but no one else could answer. He shook his head. 

“They cared too much. Especially about other people.”

He’d explained that Hamlet had the right idea, by pushing Ophelia away. 

Jim, although he’d seen what love could do to people when it was gone, couldn’t agree. He wrote his paper—the last homework assignment he remembered ever caring about---disagreeing with Kodos. 

He expected to fail. He expected Kodos to punish him. Instead the other man laughed, reading pieces he thought particularly brilliant to the other children. 

After class, he called Jim up to his desk. He pushed the sleeve of his white pressed shirt up to the crook of his elbow, exposing a heavily damaged forearm. It was a mass of crisscrossed scars, grooves set deep down. Jim wanted to vomit. 

“Love is a weakness, James. To need, is a weakness. We must make sure you don’t need anything.”

That was two weeks before Kodos had all of the families of the nine killed. Jim watched his aunt and uncle go down in a barrage of bullets, squeezed tight together, falling together.

Afterwards, he tried to usher the Nine of his star pupils into his mansion. To pretend like class could just continue. And he was furious to find tears on their faces as they stood behind the destruction, as guards discarded the bodies into one mass grave. He screamed at them that they would thank them later as they fled, Jim grabbing Kevin, the smaller of the students and pulling, dragging him away. The rest followed. 

Kodos has been wrong. He wanted the nine to need him. He just hadn’t counted on his actions letting them find each other. 

Jim’s tattoo stopped the day Kodos killed his family. And as he starved to death on a planet made of dust and death, he thought that maybe Kodos has succeeded in making Jim realize he didn’t need anyone. 

And now thirteen years later, Kodos was coming back for him. Had already stripped away everything Jim had thought he needed, the life he had made for himself. Lenore said that her father was a monster. But Jim knew that Kodos was more human than he let on. And humans could be killed and brought to justice. 

And Jim needed to just that. 

He set the book down on the Captain’s bed---which had mostly collapsed in on itself under a pile of ceiling. 

He flipped through the pages out of nostalgia and a desire to confront it. He couldn’t blame Shakespeare for Tarsus IV or Kodos. He had always loved literature, even if it meant he stayed clear of the Bard and the memories it brought up. 

Writing on the inside cover caught his eye. 

_Dearest Robert,_

_Happy reading on your long journey._

_Love, Sarah._

So the Captain had a name. 

If he had been on the Enterprise and had discovered this, he would have taken the book with him, found Sarah and returned it. They could have been soul-mates. And even if they weren’t Sarah deserved the closure. 

He took another breath and continued to examine the room. It was colder in here than the rest of the ship’s parts. 

He winces when he steps on shattered glass. 

Turns out to be a picture frame made of old wood and you guessed it, dusty class splintered in starbursts. 

“Gotcha,” Jim whispers. It’s a Starfleet diploma for a Robert J. April. Much older than his own---the one Bones insisted on hanging up while Jim just wanted to stuff it in a drawer or send it into storage. 

He knows that name. 

Vaguely. 

There’s too many Admirals on and off planet to keep track of and Jim only had the pleasure of dealing with a few. But he knows April. He doesn’t drop the frame when the Red Alert starts, lighting up the skeleton of the ship in a sinister red. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He needed to haul ass back to the bridge. No time, no time-

He spun out of the room and nearly into the chest of a mercenary, space suit covering every identifying feature he might have had. 

A gun swings up and into Jim’s face. 

Jim does the only thing he can think to do and spins, ducking around the debris and into the bathroom where he knows is an outlet to the First Officer’s quarters. His hands scramble for pieces of plastic, wood, anything to use as a weapon. He misses his phaser so fucking much right now. 

His limbs, slower on the uptake, twitch in muscle memory as he runs. 

_Lenore, you better be ready._

He hears the Merc behind him, feet pounding on a collection of Earth swept into the ship. Their footsteps echo loudly, too loud in Jim’s ears. 

The whine of a phaser as it charges-

_Please let this work._

He hits the ground, his chin knocking into dirt and class, as something, a bolt, a projectile, slams into his back. 

As the Merc stands over him, ready to fire another shot, all Jim can see is the red of the lights blinking above him.


	4. The Path That Marks Our Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how did Jim and McCoy figure out they were Soul-Mates?

-

**Transcript of Ellipsis Episode Three: The Path That Marks Our Souls-**

**ADMIRAL BARNETT:** Support for Ellipsis comes from the Kelvin Foundation and the Starfleet Survivor’s Fund. Doing What We Can For Those Who Served. 

_Previously on Ellipsis…_

**McCOY:** I wish I could say that I knew then and there. That rainbow shot out of our asses or a spark shocked us when our fingers brushed passing each other my hip flask. But no, we were both broken idiots. Took a while before we figured things out.

**AGNEAU:** Every person in the Federation has been conditioned to believe that McCoy did it. And now I’m asking you to undo that. And even then, I cannot lawfully conclude that Leonard McCoy is innocent or that Jim’s still alive. But I can help share his story and puzzle together the pieces with the rest of you. So until next time, we’ll have to struggle together with what to believe.  
  
 _“From WAZ San Francisco, this is Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. My name is Alicia Agneau.”_

**AGNEAU:** In less than a week, I’m scheduled to meet McCoy in person at the New Zealand Penal Colony. But before I left, I wanted to conduct a bit more research, share a bit more of my findings. As you know, we left off just as we were finding out how Leoard McCoy and James Kirk first found each other. Their soul-mate origin story, so to speak. Soul-mate origin stories have always been a point of obsession in our culture. We write about them, make movies and documentaries, obsessively picking them a part. As if there’s something about it we can replicate in our own lives. But when one soul-mate story ends in such tragedy, its origin is bound to be ominous, correct? I needed to find out. I decided to start with the soul-markings themselves.

>   
> **AGNEAU** : When you sign up for Starfleet they ask you if you have soul-markings, correct?  
>  **McCOY:** Yeah but I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about that. I mean, I didn’t think it was any of their damn business. But when I was sitting down with Chris-Admiral Pike-filling out my paperwork, he asked me about it. I was about to tell him where to shove it when he rolls up his sleeve and points out his own tattoos. I have no idea how he could tell to this day…he just knew. Never got a chance to thank him for it. I might never had met Jim if he hadn’t convinced me.  
>  **AGNREAU** : Did you go through the cataloguing process right away?  
>  **McCOY** : Uh, no. Starfleet was pretty short staffed with trained medical students that weren’t greener than my Aunt Melba’s pinky at the time so I was whisked off to the hospital for orientation right away. I also think Chris understood the need for privacy.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Did Jim have his tattoos catalogued?  
>  **McCOY:** No. He didn’t even talk about it with Pike. I think the Admiral knew---not much Jim could hide from the man--but if he did know about the tattoos he didn’t let on right away. He knew Jim’s history. Guess it had to do with that.  
>  **AGNEAU:** You care to elaborate on that?  
>  **McCOY:** Not really  
> 

.

 **AGNEAU:** Sometimes conversations with McCoy are like that. It’s as if he remembers himself halfway through. He’ll shutdown just as easily and end the call, other times he’ll abruptly change the subject with as much grace as a Vulcan burping aloud for the first time.

>   
> **McCOY:** Things might’ve been easier if we both had our markings catalogued.  
>  **AGNEAU** : Some of your classmates were matched that way, correct?  
>  **McCOY:** Yeah. Bunch of good it did them. Most of them died before they could even get out of the Academy.  
> 

**AGNEAU:** I would be bitter in his place too. We ended the conversation a few seconds after that. The guards were going on lockdown for count, a laborious procedure and a holdover from penitentiaries of centuries past. With tracking chips embedded in prisoner’s arms, there was no need to manually count them but the New Zealand Penal Colony continues the tradition anyway. I was still curious about the cataloguing, though, and decided to ask around about it.

>   
> **PHILLIP BOYCE:** I’m not so much a pioneer in the cataloguing software as a student of it. I decided to study soul-mate phenomenon in conjunction with medicine after my time aboard the Yorktown. I had watched countless of crewmembers find their mates among the stars and I was pretty smitten with the concept. I started playing around with it and had help of course. Even though the Vulcan Science Academy claimed they had more important research to conduct, I found great help among them. We worked on the software until we were sure that it could be as accurate as we wanted—and for the Vulcans it had to be damned near perfect.  
> 

**AGNEAU:** Doctor Phillip Boyce has the distinction of being the only other Doctor that James Kirk would apparently listen to, according to McCoy. He also served with Admiral Pike as Chief Medical Officer.

>   
> **AGNEAU:** So why wouldn’t McCoy or Kirk get their tattoos catalogued?  
>  **BOYCE:** Honestly, I have no idea. Some people choose not to disclose them. I can guess why Jim wouldn’t have wanted them catalogued and McCoy makes sense too. Some see it as a great help in the process of finding their soul-mate. Others believe that the cataloguing takes away from their own journey of finding their mate. Others just don’t want to disclose that information. And we generally require it upon arrival at the Academy but if someone’s tattoos aren’t visible, we can’t really argue with them if they say they don’t have any.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And that’s what Jim and McCoy did?  
>  **BOYCE:** Most likely. And if anyone found tattoos on them, they would have assumed they had been catalogued.  
> 

**AGNEAU:** But that wasn’t good enough. I needed to hear it from the horses’ mouth.

>   
> **AGNEAU:** Why did you choose not to disclose your soul markings?  
>  **McCOY:** For a lot of reasons. My markings stopped when I was thirteen, and even if my mate were alive, I honestly didn’t think it was any of Starfleet’s business. I had already seen a relationship blow up in my face, see the pain being a soul-mate caused my parents when my father died. I didn’t exactly revel in the thought of living through it myself.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And you didn’t see that as selfish?  
>  **McCOY:** I didn’t exactly think I was any great match for my soul-mate at the time. And sometimes…  
>  **AGNEAU:** Sometimes what?  
>  **McCOY:** There are days I thank God or whoever the hell is up there for giving me Jim but sometimes I wonder if he would have been better off without me.  
>  **AGNEAU:** But you wouldn’t have been better off without him?  
>  **McCOY:** Fuck no. I owe Jim my life. He made me better….no idea why I’m telling you all this.  
>  **AGNEAU:** You wanted to share your story. For Jim.  
>  **McCOY:** Yeah. For Jim. 

  
**AGNEAU:** Just as the conversation is getting somewhere, when we start to hear emotion from McCoy, so different from his usual gruff tone, we get cut off. Another count, another call ended too soon. But remember in the last episode how McCoy mentioned that it took a long time for Jim and McCoy to “figure things out,”? Well, I wanted to know more about how that went. I decided to ask someone who was there the first time Jim and McCoy met.

>   
> **AGNEAU:** Commander Talbot you were onboard the shuttle that took James Kirk and Leonard McCoy from Riverside, Iowa to the Academy in San Francisco, correct?  
>  **COMMANDER NADIA TALBOT:** I was, that’s correct.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Now that you know the story, from soul-mates to tragedy, how do you look back on it?  
>  **COMMANDER TALBOT:** Well, the only well I really can, Ma’am by registering its significance and moving on.  
>  **AGNEAU:** What can you tell me about that day?  
>  **COMMANDER TALBOT:** We had a full shuttle. We were delayed a bit because Captain Pike wanted to wait. I know now that he wanted to wait for Kirk. At the time Kirk came on the shuttle, I was trying to…well, wrangle is the best word, McCoy from the head. He had locked himself in there and intended to stay for the duration of the flight. I made him sit in his seat. Which was next to Kirk.  
>  **AGNEAU:** How was their demeanors throughout the flight?  
>  **COMMANDER TALBOT:** Well, they were cordial. Friendly even. They didn’t have the look you’d expect with most recruits. I’ve seen some battles, some action and I think I mean, the closest I can to describe it is that the both looked world-weary when they sat down. But they lightened up as the flight went on. It was a longer flight than usual. We do it to get the recruits and cadets acclimated to the travel. Some haven’t been on a shuttle before in their lives. So I had some time to observe the two of them as they interacted. And I had to. They got a bit…rowdy.  
>  **AGNEAU:** How so?  
>  **COMMANDER TALBOT:** McCoy vomited on Kirk, who seemed to find this quite hilarious. But he was good with him. I admit to being harsh at the time. Usually we use special protocol to deal with cadets who might be unused to flying and McCoy claimed he was aviophophic but we had a packed shuttle and on takeoff he got lost in the melee of other tasks I had to see too. When I checked on him an hour after getting in the air, Kirk had calmed him down. I was impressed.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** So, the shuttle. You meet. You talk. And then you land. Then what?  
>  **McCOY:** I thought that was it, that was the last I would see of him. We were a big class of cadets and I was thrown into medical orientation and training. I felt bad because there was something about him…I just didn’t want to leave him behind. I’m not very good at that. Leaving him behind. Anyway, I started doing rounds at the ER. And there was a cadet who was growing notorious for charming his way in and out of there without so much as a write up.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And that was Kirk.  
>  **McCOY:** That was Jim. And Gary Mitchell.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Interesting. They were close?  
>  **McCOY:** As close as two juvenile delinquents can be. They were both ‘Fleet Brats, what the Academy called Legacies And they both, in their own ways had something to prove. Jim was just testing boundaries, I think. Seeing what he could get away with, stretching himself out. But Gary…well. Gary had something to prove and he wanted to drag Jim along with him.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Did you ever catch them in the ER?  
>  **McCOY:** I did. The two used to go off campus, even out of San Francisco to bars so they wouldn’t get in trouble. They’d stumble in with some injury. Jim usually holding Gary up. But one time Jim came in with a nasty abrasion on his forearm. The kid was allergic to every analgesic and hypo we had in the ER. He was pissed about being there but Mitchell insisted. Probably one of the only smart things he had ever done. Never seen a person more prone to infection than Jim. And, I started to set up his in depth medical history, something he neglected to do when he first signed up. If it weren’t for that initial visit, he could have died later.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And you didn’t notice than that he had the tattoos?  
>  **McCOY:** Oh, I did. But that came second after I found out his throat could close after administering even the lightest of topical analgesics on hand.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And did you have contact with him after that? When did you start to become friends?  
>  **McCOY:** Jim found me at a bar one night. Insisted on buying me a drink because I was the only doc that hadn’t even bullshitted him apparently. And I had been honestly set to do my duty and get my degree without really…  
>  **AGNEAU:** Forming any attachments?  
>  **McCOY:** Yeah, I guess you could say that. I wasn’t hoping to start a new life. I just wanted to escape the mess I made before. At that point, I had given up any hope of finding my mate…it seemed ridiculous. So I was happy to just coast by. Jim wasn’t going to let that happen.  
>  **AGNEAU:** People have said Jim was very perceptive.  
>  **McCOY:** _Is_ very perceptive.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Of course.  
>  **McCOY:** So Jim decided he wouldn’t leave me alone and before I knew it I had a friend. Well, two friends since Mitchell was always hanging around Jim. And it was good. Real good. But then, like most things do, things went downhill. Happened after the bar fight.  
> 

**AGNEAU:** Ah yes. The bar fight. Jim Kirk was quite well known for his penchant for bar fighting. So much so that Admiral Pike told him he’d give him the worst commission in the ‘fleet if he didn’t stop acting out. Admiral Benjamin took him in as assistant hand to hand combat coordinator and Jim stopped fighting.

>   
>  **ADMIRAL MARK BENJAMIN:** Damn, I miss that kid. I was Captain at the time really. Grounded due to an injury. Teaching cadets kept me young. And Kirk. Heh. There’s all different types of styles. I get paid to read situations and teach our recruits how to do it too. And Kirk just fought every time like he needed to survive. Dirty but disciplined. Kind of reminded me of some of the Section 31 fighters I’d seen. They did what they had to get to the other side. I learned something new every day with him.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And you were there for the initial bar fight right? You broke it up?  
>  **BENJAMIM:** I was. Off duty too. And then I hear this fight. And punches are flying, bottles smashing. And Kirk kicks this dude, a townie, across the room. Bar went silent after that. And then just an explosion. Jim Kirk had that affect. I felt bad about it but I had to call Pike. I had no idea who this kid was at the time. But McCoy, was dragging him out of there, cursing up a storm at Mitchell for his instigation. I didn’t know whether to reprimand McCoy or give him a hand. But then I saw their bear forearms. And I asked if Kirk and McCoy were mates. Told them I understood if this was about a protective instinct. As an instructor I’d seen a lot of that.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And how did they react?  
>  **BENJAMIN:** Looked at me like I was a time traveler with two heads. Both denied it and sidestepped their tattoos completely. Never seen anyone evade the topic so adamantly.
> 
>  **McCOY:** We were both a bit punch drunk I think but I was definitely more sober thank Jim. But as I was hauling him out of there, I got a look at Jim’s tattoos. And I was curious. He usually kept them hidden and I thought maybe they were actual ink. But this time I saw they were soul markings. And I can’t describe it. I wanted it to be me. I really did. But I knew it wasn’t. I mean, what were the odds?
> 
>  **AGNEAU:** What were the odds? Very slim. But Tilly Eaglewood says that the universe conspires to bring soul-mates together. Especially when their paths to each other narrow. McCoy didn’t talk to Jim about seeing the tattoos. In fact, he started doing his own research on his own tattoos, ignoring Jim’s altogether.
>
>>   
>  **McCOY:** And I wasn’t getting anywhere. I had a friend of ours, Gaila, hack into the database and try to find out if there were any matches…but I couldn’t figure it out.  
>  **BOYCE:** The crux of the database is that it doesn’t really help a mate until both are in. And then it uses an algorithm to match experience, environment, genetic information, with the markings. And possible matches are found. It has an 89% success rate. But it’s really up to the wearer to determine the significance of each tattoo. And that usually only makes sense when you really take a look at the clues. For instance, one of my tattoos was the number symbol and a one. No idea what that meant until I was approached by Number One to be CMO. She knew her Captain would need a CMO and I was looking for a ship to serve on. She introduced us. But it wasn’t until after I met, that I realized that the clue was meant for me yes, but for him too. She led us to each other.  
>  **AGNEAU:** Wow. And so that’s why McCoy was having a hard time? He was looking at them the wrong way?  
>  **BOYCE:** Yeah, I’d say that’s exactly what happened. And when you’re so close to your mate and you can’t read the signs, that’s when the Tug happens.  
>  **AGNEAU:** I’ve heard of the Tug before but can you elaborate?  
>  **BOYCE:** The Tug—and trust me, I didn’t give it that name---is the universe’s way of telling the person that their mate is so close. It’s an evolutionary tactic. The closer you are to your mate without finally acknowledging it, the sicker you get.  
>  **McCOY:** I hadn’t talked to Jim in a week, which was unusual for us, I guess. And Jim confronted me. Him, Mitchell and I were supposed to run a shuttle mission together, the dreaded one every Cadet has to pass. And I wanted nothing to do with it. I felt like I had the Rigellan Flu. So we fought. I was in a pretty low place. The whole thing with the database made me think that my soul-mate really was dead and I thought that Jim was lucky, his was probably out there. And how much I wanted to be the one. I thought it might be Mitchell.   
> **AGNEAU:** At this point, you hadn’t had a tattoo appear for fifteen years?  
>  **McCOY:** That’s right.  
> 
> 
>  **BOYCE:** When tattoos usually stop before the mates meet, that usually means death. But sometimes it means some sort of block. Mental, traumatic…it depends on the situation.
>
>>   
>  **McCOY:** I was walking on the quad and I knew Jim was scheduled to fly that morning. I was feeling awful. My head was pounding, I could barely keep any food down. But I wanted to keep to my schedule. Idiot that I was. I’ll admit it. I was heading to my Xenobiology lecture when my arm stung. Hadn’t felt it do that in fifteen years. I figured that meant that the inevitable had happened. My arm would turn like I’d seen so many others do. My mate had died. But no, a new one appeared. NCC. Had no idea what that meant. I passed out a second later.  
>  **BOYCE:** I met with him and told him he had The Tug. Asked him some questions about the tattoos, that sort of thing. Was going to just give him a hypo to sleep it off until we could figure out a way to move forward when the call came in. One of the training shuttles had crashed; it was bad. When I found out it was Kirk…well, I just knew that McCoy’s day wasn’t going to get any better.  
>  **McCOY:** I heard about the shuttle accident from the nurse’s station and it was like a jolt of electricity went through me. I didn’t believe in any of that soul-mate spiritual stuff but I knew that I had to help. Boyce tried to keep me away but I honestly felt fine. I tried to explain it to him but I knew he didn’t have time to understand it. He needed another pair of hands. And then I saw Mitchell rolled in. His leg was a mess. He was conscious screaming about Jim. How they had to get Jim out and I-I saw red.  
>  **BOYCE:** McCoy grabbed Mitchell. He looked like he had gone two rounds with a Klingon warrior and won. I mean, security took a step back. He’s growling at Mitchell, “What the hell did you do?” “What the fuck happened?” And meanwhile, Jim’s being rolled in---it took them an hour to extricate him from the damn shuttle wreckage---with a piece of metal sticking out of his gut. I thought we were going to lose him. McCoy wouldn’t accept that.  
>  **McCOY:** They told me after the surgery was over that I had done all I could, to prepare myself. And all I could do was try not to vomit. And then I was sitting by his bedside, dizzy as fuck, and I reach out for his hand. It was the only thing not black and blue. He was hooked up to every machine they had available, breathing for him, making sure he wouldn’t reject the blood transfusion…and I just wanted to let him know I was there. I didn’t care about the damn soul-mates bullshit. I wanted to tell him how I felt. For the first time. And then I saw it. 1701 just above his inner elbow, diagonal from his last tattoo.  
>  **BOYCE:** Ship postings had gone out the day of the crash. Chris fought to get Jim and McCoy on the same ship. And it worked. But with the accident…no one was sure what would happen. Len wouldn’t leave Jim’s side. Pike, Gaila, and I tried to get him to go out. A few people from his classes…we all tried to get him to leave the damned hospital. But he wouldn’t. Even when we threatened to suspend his ass; he just showed us the door. And then one day I sit down across from him and he pulls up his shirt and shows me his tattooed forearm against Jim’s and I knew. I swore. And then I felt like weeping for him. Because it didn’t look like Jim would wake up.  
>  **AGNEAU:** So what did you do?  
>  **BOYCE:** From his hospital room we plotted the tattoos together. Chris helped. We followed the map and it led them to each other. They were soul-mates. They had to be.  
>  **AGNEAU:** And what was going on with Mitchell? Where did he come into this?  
>  **BOYCE:** Mitchell was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. After an investigation, officials had concluded that his actions on the shuttle had led it to crash and if not for Kirk, more casualties could have occurred. Kirk should have been lauded as a hero. But instead matters were kept under wraps because of Mitchell’s legacy status. Everyone assumes Kirk was a punk cadet, skating by until his big break during the Narada incident. Well, it’s time to set the fucking record straight: Kirk was a hero. In the academy, as a cadet on probation, as a Captain. People should know.  
>  **AGNEAU:** What happened when Kirk woke up?  
>  **BOYCE:** I’ve never seen anyone look so relieved. I mean, I’ve felt that certainly after my own husband was in an accident but seeing it on someone else’s face. It was…emotional. The kid’s first words were ‘Bones’—that’s what Jim calls McCoy---and then McCoy leans over and kisses the kid on the forehead. Whenever I see people digging into this case, I think of that moment. McCoy could never have harmed Jim. Not after almost losing him more than once.  
>  **McCOY:** I told him we needed to talk and then traced his tattoos. He was pretty out of it and always swore he didn’t say this but I know I heard him say, “I hoped it would be you.”  
>   
> 
> 
>  **AGNEAU:** The two kept it quiet. With the exception of Admiral Pike and Doctor Boyce, no one knew. Until the Narada. And suddenly, they had to share the details. But that’s for next time on Ellipsis….Thanks for listening.


	5. Death and The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Kodos is death, destroyer of a world, than Adrian Creek is his reaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up…and also getting longer than anticipated. Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thanks to the usual suspects for beta-ing and plot talk. You're the best.

Someone was gently running their hand through his hair, their thumb moving in circles on his forehead. Jim leaned into the touch. 

He was on the ship, in med-bay. Under the rumble of the life-support systems, the air cycling through, he could actually hear Spock’s exasperated sigh, feel the weight of Bones’ worried stare as he continued his soothing motions. Jim strained to hear the beeping of the bay’s constant machines or Nurse Chapel’s tread as she made her rounds. He desperately missed the smell, clean and so familiar, as he kept his eyes close for just a few more moments. 

“I’m okay, Bones,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry to say that Doctor McCoy is not with us, James,” a voice, not just any fucking voice but death himself, destroyer of a world, said. 

Jim bolted up, hands and legs bound. He struggled. Orange light stung his eyes, made them water as blurry and shadowed figures, ---the Mercenary, a white-coated nurse—stepped forward. 

“I’ll handle it, Sir,” the nurse said, raising a hypo attached to a trembling hand his way. He strained away. 

“No, no. I want him lucid for this conversation.” Kodos stepped back, mouth raised in a half smile, face a pock-marked mess. He looked like a shadow of the man Time had once called ‘The most charming and charismatic of renaissance men destined to save our world one gifted school at a time.’

“Fuck you,” Jim cut lines into his wrists where the leather binding held firm. 

“Don’t you want to know if your plan succeeded, James?” Kodos had the gift of seeing everything you had to offer all at once. He was a body-language expert and had done his best to teach the nine students he claimed were his favorite. Jim knew that the man was anxious. That the way he folded his arms, always hiding his ruined arms where soul markings may or may not have been, was his last defense. 

He was uncertain; desperate to appear in control. 

Even on Tarsus IV when the head scientist had reported the crop failings, Kodos had been in control. Even when the first emergency ships had landed in the barren fields outside of the city center, Kodos had exuded calm. 

The only time Jim had seen him lose control was right before Jim ran with little Kevin Riley, two seconds after Kodos slapped him across the face because Jim called him a monster. 

Jim struggled to get up again. His head pounded with the effort. The light stung his eyes. “What’s wrong? Didn’t expect me to fight back, did you?”

“Oh but I did. I taught you everything you know.” Kodos punctuated every word by leaning in closer until all Jim could concentrate on was the smell of his overpowering cologne and sickly sweet scent of his breath. 

“Not everything,” Jim spit in his face. 

The Merc stepped forward but Kodos put a hand up to stop him. 

“I thought we agreed not to wake him until we were on Q.” A deeper voice interrupted before Kodos could say more and the other man stepped back, straightened his shoulders and turned to face a doorway, black and without the glow that the orange overhead lights provided. 

“I _thought_ we agreed to allow me to make the decisions.” Kodos sneered. 

_Oh good, an enemy of my enemy._

A man stepped into the room but just out of Jim’s sight. Both the Merc and Nurse stepped away and out of view, scurrying like misbehaved children spotted by their father. 

He walked over to the bed and smiled. “Hello again Jim.”

“Adrian Creek.” Jim tried not to shiver at the memory of Creek from their last run in flashed through his mind. 

If Kodos was death, Adrian Creek was his reaper. 

“Ah. I was worried you wouldn’t remember.”

Jim strained his neck so he could look the other man in the eye as Creek stepped into view. He was clean-shaven and wore an expensive cut suit—the ones that Carol and Uhura used to push on the men of the Enterprise whenever they had a gala to attend. His eyes were a deep brown but they didn’t hold a hint of the warmth that Bones’ hazel eyes did. He had a merciless expression, his own resting bitch face, pliable and able to smile charismatically on cue for the cameras. Jim thought that Creek and Kodos were cut from the same cloth. 

“I think you were hoping I wouldn’t.”

Creek inclined his head. “I do regret that our… modifications during your time with us were for naught.” 

Jim snorted, which hurt his nose. He narrowed his eyes so the light wouldn’t hurt as much; it didn’t help. 

“Despite your best efforts, I remember everything.” He made sure to enunciate every word. ”Looks like your tech isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

Adrian’s jaw popped. “We didn’t count on Lenore Kodos stepping in.”

Jim turned to Kodos. “Aren’t you glad you raised a genius capable of undoing your sins?”

Kodos stepped back, rocked on his heels, not rising to the bait “What is her status?” he asked Creek. 

“Hiding, as far as we know. No ships left the planet’s orbit. She can’t evade us for long. Not in that wreckage.”

“Destroy it all.” Kodos asked. 

Jim gripped the rails of the bio-bed. The binding didn’t even burn anymore. 

“I think you’ll find we don’t have time for games, James.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that.”

“Do you remember when you ran away on Tarsus IV?”

Jim did. It was the second time in his life that he stood up to someone. The first being when he drove his father’s car off the quarry just to prove a point to Frank. 

“Do you remember what I promised you?”

_“A legacy, don’t you see? These people, they’re infinitely weaker. But you and I. We’re better. You know it. You feel it.” Kodos reached out to touch him and Jim flinched. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the rest of the nine around the corner of the Governor’s mansion. Tommy Leighton’s mouth hung open in an O, a soundless scream from watching his parent’s murder out the classroom window. Kodos had wanted to shield his students. A scientist who couldn’t stop shaking and praying—had locked the doors and closed the blinds and left them alone with the lights off. But they could still hear the gunshots. Jim stood on a desk to rip the blinds down, expecting rioting but not that. Murder in the distance. Falling bodies. They ran. As fast as they could. Kodos met them around the back of the building. Arms out in a placating gesture. Lenore crumpled. Jim stood in front of the nine, he felt stronger suddenly. He willed them to run._

“You promised me a family.” Jim couldn’t speak above a whisper. His throat was raw with the ache of screaming done long ago and his bones ached with the memory. 

“Yes.” Kodos matched his tone. Leaned in closer. 

Jim lashed out, nearly striking the other man in the face. The Merc charged forward to pull him back, the nurse hovered with her hypo. Adrian Creek looked scandalized. 

Jim breathed evenly. Imagined Bones beside him or even fucking Spock with his Vulcan mediation mats. He needed to stay calm. He needed to breathe. This is what they wanted. He was a fucking Starfleet Captain for fuck’s sakes. And they had turned him back into a snotty twelve-year-old. 

“I don’t think you’re in the position to make promises.”

“How about a deal then?” Creek smoothed down his jacket. He was clearly done with this conversation. 

Jim stared at him, hopefully conveying that the man was a few Dilithium crystals short of a Warp Core. 

“You don’t have anything I want.” God, he hoped that sounded convincing. You can’t con a con man, after all. 

Creek’s smile was what Cheshire Cat personified. It made Jim’s eye twitch. “Don’t we?”

“You’ve taken my life from me. Five-years worth of memories. And for what? Some blood samples?”

“Oh, despite McCoy’s best efforts, you’ll find we already took the samples we needed.”

When Jim and Bones first came out as soul-mates, after the firestorm the Narada caused, a shit-ton of people approached them. They wanted blessings, interviews, and other more uncomfortable things. But Adrian Creek and Alias were different. 

At first he just wanted to appeal to Jim, first boasting about Alias’ cruise lines and how great it would be to have Jim as a guest on one of the soul-mate matching missions. For Bones, Creek had spoken of the new soul-mate technology, especially in terms of biological and xenobiological testing, and how they could use a consultant. 

And what could they say? They smiled politely, told them the man they’d consider it and move on. Creek was a common form of rich asshat that Starfleet seemed to favor. 

And as much as Jim wanted to deck him, he couldn’t, especially at a Starfleet function. 

But Creek was relentless. 

And they had a free week where Bones figured he’d tour Alias’ facilities more so he could send Jim snaps of equipment and tell him how the Enterprise’s labs were so much better. Even if he were lying. A little bit. 

A week of Shore leave turned into a month and Bones was drinking the Creek Kool-Aid soon enough. 

But then Creek and the Alias team asked for something else in addition to Bones’ time and expertise. 

Blood samples, skin samples, brain scans. 

Bones knew his husband well; Jim was not okay with that. And fuck Creek and the horse he rode on for suggesting it. 

He quit Alias a week later with bruises on his hand and a restraining order against him from Adrian Creek. He didn’t tell Jim about it. And they never spoke about it. 

Jim kind of wished now that they had. 

He swallowed hard. He’d ask for water—his throat was burning. “What more do you want?”

“Everything, Mr. Kirk. Much more than blood. Dr. McCoy knew.” Creek’s lips twitched. “I believe that is why he reacted so strongly. But you know what they say. Payback is a bitch.”

Jim jumped up again. “You fucker. This isn’t about him-“

“Isn’t it? There are two in a soul-mate pair, aren’t there? He made his choices. He could have consented to give us the information, however, he went snooping and-“

Jim laughed. “He figured you out, didn’t he? He found out about this.” Jim nodded toward the ship around them. “Whatever shady shit you’ve got going on.” God, he missed Bones. 

“Indeed.” Adrian Creek inhaled. “And he served his part well. Now you will serve yours.”

Jim answered in Klingon. And a few choice hand gestures, what he could do with his hands tied that is. 

“Be nice, James,” Kodos ordered. 

“We kept McCoy—and your crew—alive because they were no longer a threat. Don’t let that change. I’d hate to see you lose more people,” Creek told him. 

They would do it too. Somehow. And he couldn’t go through that again. Not with them on the line. 

“Why now? Lenore-“ He swallowed hard against her name. “Said you knew about us.”

“We weren’t ready for you yet and time is…as they say, of the essence.”

“That radio show!” Jim laughed and it felt so good. “They started raising red flags. You thought people would give up on me.”

“Never.” Kodos said with what called a sad smile. “We just thought that they’d be less likely to avenge you five years past.”

Jim shook his head. “I think you underestimate my crew.”

“A mistake we’re not likely to make again,” Creek told him. 

“And you want…?” Jim asked, feeling a bit helpless. He fucking hated the feeling. 

“From you? We’d like to open you up.” When Jim’s arms widened, Kodos patted his hand. 

“Just your arm, James.”

Jim wrenched his hand away, nearly tearing his arm out of his socket. 

“What else?” He gritted out.

“I think that is a good place to start-“

“No. You don’t get to keep this from me.”

There it was, Creek’s jaw tightened again. “We don’t have to tell you anything.”

Jim turned to Kodos, ready to speak the words the man would understand. “You’re worried about my loyalty, right? Well, that’s never going to happen. And your memory wiping won’t work well enough. So, if I let you do something, something that will prove I can’t be a threat, will you leave my family alone?”

Kodos loved when someone upped the stakes. His eyes were practically shining with the possibilities. “What are you willing to do?”

Jim flipped his arm over, rose it as far as the holds would allow. His tattoos were old looking but still present and a part of him. They still connected him, now weakly, to his soul-mate. “Burn them.”

It was as if those words were a vacuum, sucking up everything else in it’s wake. No one was expecting that. 

“We could never risk that. How could we-“ Creek started. 

“Experiment without them?” Jim was pretty sure his tone was that of a dead-man but that’s what he would be, when his markings were gone. Based on the radio show, he knew Bones believed he was out there. After this, he wouldn’t be. But he knew Bones, knew his husband could survive that. He had to after all he had gone through. And maybe then, maybe someone would notice the correlation between the markings and know that Jim had been “killed” later. Bones deserved to be out. And if all went according to plan, that would happen. Eventually. Just probably not with Jim in the picture. “Pretty sure you’ll figure that out.”

Jim closed his eyes as Kodos stepped away to speak to Creek. He could hear the movements of the nurse and the Merc shifting. There was a script they were all clearly following and Jim had just improvised. They should have prepared for it. 

-

“Are you sure?” the nurse asked him a half-hour later. She held a hot metal brand and they’d given him a thick cloth to bite down on. He tensed his muscles, closed his eyes tight. 

Jim had read once about a woman who had gone on an exploratory mission. She’d been badly burned and left for dead after her team had crashed on an M-class planet. Her soul-mate at home had thought she had died because all of the markings down her legs and sides had been damaged in the crash. When she had been rescued a week later, her soul-mate wouldn’t believe it until he had laid eyes on her. It was the first recorded time something like that had happened but Jim knew it was possible. Years without Bones had turned his arm into a grey, nearly dead thing. 

_Forgive me, Bones._ He sent out into the universe. 

It was the last thought he had before the Nurse touched the brand to his first mark.


	6. Inimical Forces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the formatting. Still working on it. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Happy reading! And thanks for all the support. Special shout-out to my amazing beta, Sarah.

 

_"My name is Alicia Agneau and this is WAZ San Francisco Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. For those of you just tuning in, we’re investigating the case of 32 year-old Leonard McCoy charged with the death of his soul mate.”_

**ALICIA AGNEAU:** The story continues…how did Kirk and McCoy choose to divulge their soulmate status? And how was it received?

 

           **AGNEAU:** So how did you navigate the new space of being soulmates?

 

           **McCOY:** At first? It wasn’t unusual. It was like confirmation, I guess for something we already knew.

 

           **AGNEAU:** I sense a ‘but’ at the end of that.

 

           **McCOY:** I wanted answers: why did our markings stop? what did they mean? I’m a doctor, not a psychic and I wanted evidence, understanding, and proof.

 

           **AGNEAU:** And how did Jim take that?

 

           **McCOY:** He understood why I wanted it, but he didn’t want to touch them. He was- _is_ -protective of them; always has been. He thought that if we tried to study it too much, they would disappear.

 

           **AGNEAU:** Do you know why he felt this way?

 

           **McCOY:** Yeah, I guess I do in a way. But I think it was more because Jim’s always had to fight for everything and he was afraid that if he looked too hard at them, they would cease to exist.

 

 **AGNEAU:** You advised Kirk and McCoy to keep it quiet?

 

 **BOYCE:** Chris and I did, yes. We knew how hard it was to navigate Starfleet as soulmates, especially working together. We knew that there was nothing the brass could do to keep them a part in their postings but the Admiralty had always been divided on Kirk. They wouldn’t make it easier for him.

 

 **AGNEAU:** How did McCoy and Kirk take it?

 

 **BOYCE:** Well, it was new for them and it wasn’t; I think they always knew deep down, but they were still trying to figure things out. The first few months, hell the entirety of being soulmates, is straining. It’s like trying to flex a muscle you hadn’t used in a long time and it took them some getting used to.

 

           **AGNEAU:** What was the experience like, getting used to being soulmates?

 

           **McCOY:** Like trying to remember a vivid dream you had, you just suddenly remember these things about the other person. They unfold before you and you just _get it._ It was unsettling at first because I knew where he was, how far away he was, what was happening. I…had an accident a few months after we met. I went home to Georgia to tell my family and get them used to the idea and I got in a car crash—and to think I was afraid of shuttles. Jim felt it all the way in Iowa visiting his mom. I got a frantic call from her after getting out of the hospital; I only needed a few stitches. But Jim wouldn’t wake up and I knew we needed to study this. No matter what he said, I wasn’t losing him to something we didn’t understand.

 

 **AGNEAU:** It must have been exciting to have Kirk and McCoy come to you. Was it hard to keep their secret?

 

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** No, not at all. It was thrilling to help them! They were so eager to learn, if not a little wary.

 

 **AGNEAU:** So what did you help them with?

 

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** Mostly just understanding the bond that soulmates share. In Taos, we have the largest collection of soulmate journals and personal accounts.

 

 **AGNEAU:** What did they seem most interested in?

 

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** All sorts of things. Not many soulmates get to study the phenomenon from multiple points of views. We asked them to write up personal accounts for us. But alas, those were still in the works when this tragedy occurred.

 

 **AGNEAU:** Do you believe he’s dead?

 

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** I believe there is strong evidence to the contrary. We’re no Alias or Adrian Creek at the Historical Society but we do know our historical accounts and anecdotes. There’s one that is very interesting…

 

 **AGNEAU:** And what is that?

 

 **TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** A few years back a woman went on an exploratory mission for Starfleet. Her soulmate, an engineer, wasn’t able to go with her at the time but would meet her at a later date. Unfortunately, engine damage caused the small ship to crash and the team was all presumed dead, including the woman whose arm and legs—the sites of her markings—were badly injured in the crash.  Her husband had no reason to believe she was alive. His tattoos had turned grey, his arm looked like the damaged arm of burn survivor and yet she was rescued. They were reunited. Long distance and time a part will turn tattoos into scars, but if a mate does not believe his soulmate is dead, than neither should we.

 

           **AGNEAU:** I decided to ask Boyce’s point of view.

 

           **BOYCE:** It’s rare but it does happen. But mostly, if the markings fade or appear damaged, that means that the other mate has died.

 

           **AGNEAU:** And McCoy’s tattoos?

 

           **BOYCE:** No one has been permitted to look at them after the fact. I wouldn’t know.

 

 **AGNEAU:** Like any good journalist, I filed that information under things to check into later. By the time this radio shows airs, I will be on my way to New Zealand to meet McCoy in person. I was eager to see his markings for myself. But until then, I had other questions to ask him.

 

 **AGNEAU:** What was it like to sit down with Jim and map out your markings?

 

 **McCOY:** Like mapping coincidences that you realize are more than that, we realized how many times our tattoos were trying to get us to cross paths. How much we could have averted if we had just paid attention. The thing people don’t understand about the tattoos is that they’re made just for you, that it really takes knowing yourself and understanding your path to figure it out. I don’t know if I would have understood that a few years before I met Jim.

 

 **AGNEAU:** So you believe that you meet your soulmate when you’re ready?

 

 **McCOY:** Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying.

 

 **AGNEAU:** And you were both content with keeping it secret?

 

 **McCOY:** There was no reason to believe we would ever have to share it. I knew Jim was meant for great things. I knew I would be by his side but we never counted on the Narada or being made Captain and CMO so quickly.

 

           **BOYCE:** Starfleet forced their hand after the Narada…you see, McCoy snuck Jim on the Enterprise after a small debacle involving the Kobayashi Maru.

 

           **AGNEAU:** He cheated on it, didn’t he? The Kobayashi Maru is still the unbeatable test, am I right?

 

           **BOYCE:** Yes. And in true Starfleet fashion, because of Kirk’s…divergent thinking, they wanted to make an example of him. Did you know he was suspended? He wasn’t even assigned to a ship before the Narada tragedy. If McCoy hadn’t smuggled Jim Kirk on board that ship, we’d all be dead.

 

           **AGNEAU:** No, I didn’t know that. I’d bet our listeners didn’t know that either.

 

           **BOYCE:** Afterwards, the Admirals were unsure of what to do. They couldn’t kick him out because he had just saved the world and they couldn’t let him go without a reprimand because he had just broken the rules. McCoy had been a part of the Crew; they were seriously considering to court martial him for sneaking Kirk on board the Enterprise.

 

           **AGNEAU:** It was a no-win scenario for Starfleet, wasn’t it?

 

           **BOYCE:** (Laughing) Yeah. Too bad they believe in them.

 

           **AGNEAU:** What did they do?

 

           **BOYCE:** Chris and I invited them over for drinks and we made plans to hold a press conference. The media were already clamoring for them but Starfleet PR put a moratorium on it until the brass could figure things out with Kirk. They knew that the minute the media got their hands on Jim and Len, they’d be spinning them into heroes—and we all knew they were. Starfleet couldn’t have the public pressuring their decision.

 

 **AGNEAU:** A good friend of mine, Catherine Blake was a press secretary at the time for Starfleet. She’s since moved on.

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** I still laugh when I think about their faces. I was supposed to brief the Admirals in the morning. We had delayed the media for as long as possible but we needed to feed them something. Instead I get an alert about a press conference in two hours. It was five thirty in the morning.

 

 **AGNEAU:** And what did you do? How do you react to that?

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** I all about shit myself. I mean, I was one step above intern at that point and I knew that if this went south, it would be more than my job at risk. At the same time, this was Jim Kirk we were talking about. He was already like an enigma, so I couldn’t say I was surprised. I woke up Admiral Barnett and Admiral April and they did their emergency phone-tree thing. I swear it was like the sky was falling,  which for them it was because Kirk was about to change a lot. I knew it, they knew it. Even the media, who had camped out outside HQ knew it.

 

 **AGNEAU:** So what happened at the press conference?

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** There was no press conference.

 

 **AGNEAU:** No press conference?

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** A press conference would need to involve something more than Kirk stepping up to the microphone and giving a speech that—honestly might have been the best spontaneous thing I’ve ever listened to—that basically included him announcing that McCoy and him were soulmates and they took some actions that were frowned upon but don’t regret saving each other and the world because of it but basically were willing to accept any consequences Starfleet meted out together.

 

 **AGNEAU:** Why isn’t this speech available more widely?

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** We all signed affidavits. The only thing reporters were allowed to leak was that Kirk had found his soulmate and that Starfleet fully supported them.

 

 **AGNEAU:** They changed their tune real quick, huh?

 

 **CATHERINE BLAKE:** They didn’t have a choice. Our PR team was stuck between admiring Kirk and wanting to murder him. Well, I guess I shouldn’t have said that. The Admirals weren’t far behind on that. We had a two day long deep dive, the media gave us this long in pity before fielding requests for interviews, where we figured out the strategic plan: who was interviewing, who got the full expose, what holo appearances to do. It became political. Whatever Kirk and McCoy’s transgressions were, they kind of became a punch line at the end of this joke.

 

 **AGNEAU:** I remember when the story broke. It was more than explosive…it was as if soulmate phenomenon hadn’t existed until that moment. The outlets were tired of focusing on the tragedy; it had been weeks since the last funerals, and reporters were scrambling for human interest stories. They needed Kirk and McCoy’s story - the distraction. So they welcomed them with open arms and Starfleet was forced to go along with the whole thing, organizing galas and panels and meet and greets centered on the event. Meanwhile, certain interested parties circled like vultures, eager to step in and claim some of the soulmate spotlight. Two such vultures was Adrian Creek and Alias.

 

 

           **AGNEAU:** Thank you for agreeing to speak with me again, Mr. Creek.

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** Of course, Ms. Agneau. I consider it my duty to uphold the integrity of soulmate study and if answering your questions requires some intense line of thought, than I’m willing to take part in it.

 

           **AGNEAU:** Could you tell me your perspective after James Kirk and Leonard McCoy came out as soulmates?

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** After their announcement, well, the community blew up, so to speak. It was a wonderful time to be involved with soulmate study. The public, who before had been divided in terms of soulmate politics, took a sudden interest in this new celebrity. It was fascinating to see it evolve. But you know what they say…every rising star must fall just as sudden and fast.

 

           **AGNEAU:** That’s a little intense considering James Kirk was murdered.

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** Well, the whole subject is intense, isn’t it? After all it seems that there were various inimical forces ready to lay waste to the entire soulmate architecture, not to mention James Kirk and Leonard McCoy’s future.

 

           **AGNEAU:** So are you saying that McCoy is innocent? That this tragedy is to blame on these “inimical forces?”

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** I’m saying that demons exist both inside and out, Ms. Agneau. It was a matter of time before they destroyed whatever happiness they had.

 

            **AGNEAU:** And what demons would those be, Mr. Creek?

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** Besides this phenomenon, they were both promoted rather quickly to Captain and CMO. The pressure of fame, of their new positions, that would be enough to crush lesser men.

 

           **AGNEAU:** I think we’ve made it clear with this show that Kirk, and even McCoy depending on your opinion, were definitely _not_ lesser men.

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** Perhaps. But they were also dealing with past inconveniences, I’ve been told. McCoy was divorced, am I right? And Kirk had his fair share of trouble.

 

           **AGNEAU:** I’m struggling to find out what this has to do with the rise in soulmate interest?

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** Well, I’m just saying that many people have been casting stones when they don’t realize the whole story. They act as if James Kirk was an innocent bystander; he was human. Even heroes have flaws. I just think that society needs to realize this.

 

           **AGNEAU:** It’s not proper to speak ill of the dead.

 

           **ADRIAN CREEK:** That’s for those who believe he’s really dead.

 

\---

 

Alicia paused the recording as the transport to her shuttle hit an air pocket. She took in a quick breath. The other passengers, daily commuters who were already used to the treacherous turbulence, paid her no attention.

 

She felt nauseous but also compelled to write Charlie an email. _Adrian Creek is a slimy dick. Can we investigate him?_ She could imagine Charlie’s sputtering and his bemoaning of sponsorship and viewership and all of the other ‘ships in between. No, they could not investigate Adrian Creek. Even if she really wanted to. Even if the chill that worked up the base of her spine to the back of her neck, made her shiver in gross apprehension when she heard his voice. But that was not something she could tell her listeners. She could post a blog, YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS SHIT UP with the rest of their conversation. There was no room in the radio show. But the small clip was enough.

 

The radio show would go live tomorrow while she was on the slow shuttle to New Zealand. She could have taken the express. The one that would warp her there in a few hours but she needed the rest. Hours of investigating ghosts had made her turn into one. Even Charlie, who rarely left the office, commented that she should get some sun while there.

 

How much sun could she get at a Penal Colony?

 

If she were lucky, the Warden would let her stay a few extra days to set up some atmospheric work. She did her best writing while on location even if it wore her out.

 

This whole thing wore her out.

 

But she wanted to talk to McCoy.

 

She wanted to meet face-to-face, establish a better report before moving on. She wanted to get a glimpse at the tattoos. Not many people had. They’d never been photographed. Neither his nor Kirks.

 

 She had asked him the easy stuff to start. The next week would be harder. Charlie demanded that she make him cry or something.

 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she told him as she packed up her computer, the rest of the equipment.

 

He leaned back in his chair, pudgy frame making it squeak in protest. “Assholes make good journalists.” He told her.

 

It was true.

 

McCoy wouldn’t respond well to an asshole. In all of this he hadn’t had anyone on his side- the only one on his side had been Jim, hadn’t it? And he was dead.

 

Presumed so.

 

Possibly dead, even.

 

Where else would the man be? There had been a body, a memorial.

 

There was even a grave.

 

She sat up suddenly, knocking into her coffee mug so that it sloshed onto the plastic divide between her seat and another. “Fuck,” she said. Eyebrows raised around her.

 

She pulled up her computer. She would be emailing Charlie after all.

 

She subjected it as CRAZY IDEA #6

 

Crazy Idea one was the podcast. #2 WAS interviewing Creek, which he allowed. #3 was funding from Starfleet, which had partially been his idea. #4 was contacting the Crew, which wasn’t really a crazy idea more than it was a necessity. #5 was visiting the penal colony, which he had shot down but she insisted.

 

She wrote one sentence: _If we compile evidence can we get a body exhumed?_

 

Starfleet rarely buried people.

 

There usually wasn’t much to bury and most wanted their bodies torpedoed out in space to be one with the space dust they were made out of. Kirk, though…Kirk was buried. Alicia figured it was part penance.

 

No matter what actually happened, Starfleet kind of fucked up - so they insisted on a proper burial.

 

There had been a big fight about it: Winona Kirk wanted him buried in Iowa in the Kirk family plot (It was the only thing she had said on the matter), Starfleet wanted him buried in the official burial grounds, and McCoy wanted him in space because that’s what Jim would have wanted.

 

Starfleet won because McCoy was arrested during the memorial.

 

So, there was hope.

 

She knew Charlie was probably sleeping on the couch in his office and wouldn’t answer his email until she was already in New Zealand but she wanted to ask before she lost her nerve. This case was making her brazen. She liked it.

 

On a hunch, she decided to check the message boards. She avoided them on principal when she could help it but sometimes someone pointed something out she’d need to remedy or gave her an idea.

 

Today’s REDDIT Board was full of things she’d already seen.

 

 

> REDDIT USER MCCOYWASFRAMED: Yo, I’m so glad that the Starfleet ad isn’t the one with Kirk. Wouldn’t that be fucked up?

 

 

> REDDIT USER STARFLEETDROPOUT69: That’d be way Meta though. I mean it’s bad enough its STARFLEET SURVIVOR’S FUND.
> 
>  
> 
> REDDIT USER CAPTAINWHATSIT: Maybe it’s like an Easter egg or something.

 

Before she could scroll down her comm. rang.

 

It was the Penal Colony. Fuck. Shit. What did McCoy do?

 

“Ms. Agneau?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“It’s Commander Rhyo, Warden of the Penal Colony?” Rhyo’s voice sounded tight over the miles. Alicia swallowed.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“You need to get here as soon as possible. Something’s wrong.”


	7. Human Repair Shops and Scrap Heaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicia visits McCoy face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support and encouragement. I hope you continue to enjoy the Ellipsis journey.

Fourteen hours after the communique from Warden Rhyo, which had been too clipped to tell her anything useful, Alicia stood outside barbed wired fence surrounding the New Zealand Penal Colony.

Gooseflesh dotted every exposed surface of Alicia’s skin as she stood under the structure’s shadow. It was a foreboding mass of cement brick, ugly like the dead land around it (legend went that the land wept as the first offenders broke ground for the prison and refused to let anything grow around it). Barbed wires crisscrossed the tops of the wall, pausing only to give way to the watchtowers, providing views of the whole complex and the ocean that stood on its edge spaced like sentinels every couple hundred meters. It was twice the size of Alcatraz had been but held only a small grouping of prisoners.

 Research told Alicia that there were three types of groupings here; the rehabilitation unit where beings deemed little risk and committed menial offences waited their release upon “correction”, the transitionary offenders who awaited an upcoming court date to decide their fate, and the high level offenders men with no immediate hope of release like McCoy.

 The Warden met her at the gate.

 “Welcome to the New Zealand Penal Colony.” Warden Rhyo said as she reached for the keys on her belt, pulling off a skeleton key the size of Alicia’s palm. She inserted the key into a lock and twisted it all around, a series of clicks greeting them.

 The door slid open slowly, scraping against the pavement below, and the guards flanking the entrance stepped aside. Rhyo smirked. “We’re pretty old-fashioned here. Keeps some of the more genius offenders from trying anything smooth to hack their way out.”

Though she knew the Warden didn’t mean it intentionally, Alicia couldn’t help but shiver, rubbing through the only sweater she’d deemed appropriate for a prison visit.

Hadn’t she just been talking to someone who referred to Jim Kirk as a genius offender after all?

The prison complex had been built in the late 21st century and had withstood all of the chaos of the changing age. She noticed little bits of technology, drone cameras skittered around the perimeter like annoying flies, darting in and out at random intervals. Phasers were locked into the Guard’s belts and the sentries who stood at the gates and other doorways had helmets, no doubt with advanced comm links.

Rhyo walked down a path toward a squat metal building up ahead. The hub Alicia recognized immediately. This was the center of visitor affairs, prisoner communication and all official business. Just beyond that, were the three buildings for the separate groupings, flanked by the mess hall, gym, med unit and receiving bay.

Alicia shivered again.

“McCoy hasn’t gotten much visitors,” Rhyo said.

Alicia realized she was probably just trying to make conversation. Here was Alicia, a purported journalist asking to investigate one of her more infamous prisoners and Rhyo was the one doing most of the talking.

She couldn’t help it. With as much research she had done, as much holos she had watched about it and the little bits of information she could glean from McCoy, this place was fucking intimidating. It made her feel wrung out and she’d only been there for ten minutes. Alicia remembered what Charlie had written to her in his email two weeks ago and grimaced.

“Who visited him?” she asked, realizing that there were more important things to focus on than how uncomfortable she was. _Do your goddamn job, Agneau._

“Have to check the log for that. The visit happened before my time.”

Rhyo was a relatively new warden but had made quite a reputation. She favored rehabilitation whereas the older warden—he had a heart attack his office and hadn’t been found in time to resuscitate-- had wanted to build up the complex, favoring the business practices of the 21st century. She wished that she could see an improvement but as she walked around all she saw were the high tech jumpsuits monitoring the movements of the prisoners—sorry, Rehabilitates. Whatever they were being called now.

“I’d like to take a look at the logs before I leave,” Alicia said as they walked up the steps of the building and into a warm and dry office that smelled strongly of cleaner.

“Of course. Come by my office before I leave.” Rhyo gave a small smile before taking out a smaller key and opening another gate—this one a rusted miniature of the one before that. They stepped through to a reception area, packed with beings of all different origin standing around with bored, world-weary expressions on their faces. _The Visitors_ , Alicia realized.

The Warden waved her hand in the direction of a desk in front of the room, where another gate with bars stood, blocking the visitors from the visiting room. “Martinez! Let Agneau pass, all right? She’s here to see McCoy.”

Martinez, a short and stocky guard at the desk, barely looked up from his computer but nodded anyway.

Warden Rhyo gave Alicia’s arm a squeeze. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

Alicia swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at the long line in front of her. Every eye in the place was trained on her. A baby cried out.

“Get on up here,” Martinez shouted out, startling no one but Alicia.

She nodded and wound around the group, muttering apologies and “Excuse mes” as she went.

Ten minutes later, after being scanned and searched she was through another gate, one step closer.

She rubbed fingertips into her head and pressed on.

-

Most offenders at the NZPC could only see their visitors through bulletproof glass, a method as antique as the key and lock system that governed entries and exits.

She had been prepared for this—almost comforted by the idea that a useless thick piece of glass would separate her from McCoy.

But another guard, Clarke, led her off the line into the window visiting room by the elbow.

“Warden fixed you up with a more private spot.” Clarke told her and pulled out a key ring as thick as his biceps and Alicia figured that if anyone tried to lob it, it could probably murder someone. She filed that way, under totally useless information and stepped through the door. 

“Anyone tell you what’s been going on?” Clarke asked and scratching at a grouping of hair she would be generous if she called a beard. His hands were stubby and fingernails bitten off. She heard guards here transferred out quickly. It was good work if you could get it but most of the men and women here had scored low on Starfleet Security Officer exams and this was their only option.

“No,” she said, trying not to inhale too much of the musty smell. This room, one bolted down table and two chairs, appeared to have been locked up since the 1800s. “Would you care to fill me in?”

He gave a one armed shrug, the key ring attached to that side jangling like out of tune church bells in the process. It gave her more chills that she didn’t need. She shifted, unsure if she should sit or wait against the wall for McCoy. “Not really my place, Ma’am. But I know about that radio show you put on. Some of us listen to it when we have time.” He scratched at his beard again. “This is a new development. Probably not a good one.”

She shifted again on her feet, trying to figure out if it was wrong to ask him to go on record with his thoughts when the door swung open again and _THREE_ guards ushered another man in.

It took her a moment to realize that this wasn’t the wrong Rehabilitate they were pushing toward the table and chairs but McCoy.

McCoy-who in all of the pictures pre-Jim Kirk’s death looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders (and apparently so since taking care of Jim must have been a full time occupation) but also glint in his eye that told he was the very best secret keeper, a shit stirrer with a penchant for mischief, the man James Kirk had fallen in love with.

She spent a lot of time staring at the crew photos or candids from charity galas, their wedding, and press conferences. McCoy was always touching Jim, always in his bubble. She was struck by the proximity, the unspoken warning to any who was watching them. Someone had once said that Jim was the sun and McCoy his lone planet always orbiting around.

This man before her did not look like he’d ever seen the sun, metaphorical or not. His hair had been shaved off to a low-cut bristle. His face was a sunken, dark circle stark under his eyes.

He looked dead. They were hauling in a corpse to see her.

“Sit.” One guard commanded and nudged McCoy into the chair.

The three Guards stared at her with impassive faces, eyes alight with curiosity. “You gonna sit?” Clarke asked her.

“Ah, yeah.” She moved slowly across the room, trying not to meet McCoy’s eyes—unseeing things staring at the corner of the room. She wondered how many cameras were around them.

The guards took up their sentry positions against the walls. Clarke claimed his seat in the corner.

She bit her lip. “We’re not allowed a bit more privacy?”

A guard snorted. “Ma’am, I don’t think you want privacy.”

She swallowed hard. “I do believe the Warden allowed me that. There is a one way window here, am I correct?” She gestured to the glass mirror across from her. The guard shifted.

“Please?”

“Clarke stays.” The other guard said pushing up off the wall.

She nodded.

“Good luck.” The guard huffed and the three left the room.

She shifted in her chair, ignoring Clarke and focusing on McCoy. She couldn’t help but look at his arms, wondering which ones held the marks.

His left arm was heavily bandaged and what she could see, from his chapped hands, was an angry red.

“Leonard?” She asked and then cleared her throat. “Dr. McCoy?”

His hazel eyes meet hers. “I know, I’m early but Warden Rhyo said something was wrong. What happened?”

Clarke makes a sound behind them and she resists the urge to look back at them.

Maybe he’s comatose, she thinks, as she follows his gaze to the corner of the room.

 She knows she can’t touch him but she aches to reach out and hold his hand.

“Leonard?” She asks, biting down on her lip.

She wonders who will forgive her when the word leaves her mouth. “Bones?”

Eyes narrow and meet hers. If looks could kill, she would be space dust. “Rhyo didn’t tell you?”

She shakes her head furiously, as if adamantly denying something. “No. What’s going on?”

He laughs and oh god, it’s fucking creepy. It feels like someone has blown air against her neck, making her cringe.

“Turns out I’m a murderer after all, Agneau.”

Her throat is raw with all the hard swallowing she’s doing. “What do you mean?”

With some effort he maneuvers his right hand to his left forearm, pulls away part of the bandage. She gasps and feels her shitty breakfast force its way up her esophagus. His arm is a mess of red markings, scars, not tattoos. His skin is a white, purple where it’s not touched by a mark, making it look like a dead man’s arm.

She’s seen this before. 

In her research, when McCoy told her he’s seen the arms of people who’ve lost their soul mates.

But even then, _this_ is worse.

She wonders if someone could have played a trick on them and made it all up. She wonders if it’s that elaborate of a hoax. If someone wants them to believe it.

“Jim’s dead,” McCoy says, voice raw and low. “He’s gone.”

Alicia shakes her head. She was starting to believe? Maybe. No, this isn’t how it ends for Kirk. Not like this.

“Leonard, maybe-“

He slams a fist against the table, a feat that looks like it hurts, and Clarke springs up. “Get a fucking hold of yourself, McCoy!” Clarke throws her a look. “I will restrain you if I have to.”

“You can’t fake this. You can’t. I-” He shakes his head, not even bothering to react as Clarke restrains him again and fixes his chains to the table even tighter than before. “I know he’s gone. I felt it.”

She feels a bit like she’s been hit in the stomach. All the air whooshes out of her and she tries not to double over at the table. “Fuck.”

Clarke tilts his head at her, as if he was a puppy trying to understand his human’s language. She cannot imagine that no one prepared her for this.

This was not in the plan. The plan was to never believe that Jim Kirk was actually back. She took this job with the firm conviction that Jim Kirk was dead and that she was bringing closure to the world by sharing Leonard McCoy’s story.

That’s all.

But as she starts to shake—not unlike emerging from her first training sim as a Starfleet cadet, two months before she dropped out—she realizes that she never believed he was dead. She was pathetic. And now she was doomed. “Fuck.” She said again, dragging a hand over her face.

She needed a stim shot. Or spiked coffee.

Probably both.

Suddenly, like a child who realizes too late at a sleepover she made a horrible mistake, she wished there was a grownup around. Other than a guard listening in with bored detachment. She wished her boss were here.

Charlie would know what to do. But all she could think of was his face when she told him—that she had followed a lead that ended in a literal dead end. This was supposed to be her big break, after all. Starfleet supported this, after all. She had sponsors and fans and people had started blogs speculating on whether this was all some elaborate PR stunt.

She took a shaky breath and faced McCoy, who was staring at the corner. She wondered what he was looking for, if he had finally jumped off the deep end like many figured he must have. People who lost their soulmates believed in the most irrational things. Was he looking for Jim’s ghost? Judgment? Someone to tell him that the marks on his arms hadn’t betrayed him.

“Is there anything I can do?” she whispered. This wouldn’t be their last conversation, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t think in that room anymore. She almost felt like cramming herself under the table, just to avoid looking at McCoy’s blank face.

He shook his head and his mouth twisted, like someone trying very hard not to slip up would.

She wanted to reach out to him now more than ever.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

She stood up so quickly that Clarke held onto her chair—not realizing that it was bolted down?

She nodded, more to herself than anyone, the decisive nod she remembered seeing her mother make when they had to clear out her father’s things from the house. She had work to do. But not here.

“I’ll be back.”

She allowed McCoy to be escorted out first, pushed passively along by the three guards who escorted him in, before turning to Clarke.

“I need to see Rhyo. Now.”

 - 

 

“This will ruin his chance of appeal.” Alicia said, hands gripping the upholstered edges of the chairs so hard that they cut into her.

 The Warden inclines her head, clicks at an old-fashioned pen. “He already asked his lawyer be called.”

 Her eyebrows find a home in her hairline. “Cogley?”

 The Warden nodded once. “And Shaw. Seems he wants to be prosecuted.”

 At her blank look, The Warden cocked her head. “The way those markings look? I’m sure you know what it means. Kirk’s dead. And if the prosecutors saw this now…”

 “They’ll make sure to convince anyone he did it.”

 The Warden nods in agreement. 

 “But the marks... Kirk had to be alive up until recently, right? For the marks to change like that? McCoy couldn’t have done it.”

Rhyo rubs a hand over her eyes, looking as exhausted as Alicia suddenly felt. “He won’t listen to sense. In his mind, he caused this. I’m sure he told you. Besides, Lord knows if there was a delay. The prosecutors will do anything to prove that this just solidifies the fact McCoy killed Kirk.”

Alicia felt her stomach churn again. “You can’t call anyone! Not yet. He’ll be done. The case’ll be over.”

Rhyo shook her head. “I have no intention of ruining his chances of appeal, however grim this might look.”

“Why?”

Rhyo put down her pen. “Because I actually don’t believe he’s guilty.”

Alicia laughed once. It reminded her too much of what she heard just an hour before. _Turns out I’m a murderer after all._ “Isn’t that your job?”

“No. Unlike some, I still believe in rehabilitation.”

If Alicia looked too skeptical, Rhyo didn’t comment.

“I believe that even with behavioral modification at play, correctional facilities-prisons—be more of a human repair shop than a scrap heap. And I refuse to let McCoy rot away here. Not when I saw how he reacted when he first found out.”

“Found out about the markings?”

Rhyo nodded, her skin pale against dark freckles. “He helps out in the infirmary sometimes. And there had been a fight—not uncommon, and McCoy was helping with sutures, due to our limited resources.” The Warden frowned. “He suddenly made a noise and-“ She closed her eyes tight. “I thought maybe he was having a heart attack or something. But he gripped his arm so hard that his fingers were nearly stuck in his skin and well, I’m sure you saw what they looked like.”

Alicia was sure that the sight of McCoy’s arm would never leave her.

“I just knew that was something you couldn’t fake.”

Alicia finds herself looking at seagulls outside--a small sliver of window above Rhyo’s desk—as they head toward the water and away from the dead spot this penal colony has become. She can’t help herself as she shivers and then rubs at her temples again, wishing for that spiked coffee.

“We’re not going to be able to avoid anyone finding out for long,” she said around a yawn. She excused herself.

Rhyo pursed her lips. “No. But hopefully long enough for you to find something useful.”

She raised her eyebrows again. “Excuse me?”

Rhyo sits forward in her chair, a second grader with juicy lunchtime gossip. “ _I_ can’t do anything from here. But _you_ can.”

“Like what?”

Rhyo fixes her with a stare her grandmother might have while saying, _bless her heart._

“I’ve listened to Ellipsis. You’ve got some leads there. Might get you somewhere.”

“I haven’t even started on any leads!”

Rhyo shakes her head. “It’s a start. That’s better than McCoy had before.”

“Well, there was hope that Jim wasn’t dead before and now look!”

“How could Leonard have done it if he were locked up?” Rhyo gave her a stare that must strike fear in new Rehabilitates.

“What if it was delayed? The research on soulmate phenomenon, the markings, is limited. I’m sure the prosecution could come up with _something_ to disprove that.”

“Then you come up with something better. Use the radio show as an excuse. Just do what you gotta do.”

“Why?” she blurted out again.

“Leonard McCoy saved the world twice. I don’t think he’s capable of doing what they said he did. And I know you have no intention of letting him rot here.”

She sighed again. She had a flashback to her first year as a journalism student, dejected after dropping out of Starfleet, purposeless and overly ambitious. She sat in her mentor’s office waving her PADD around, whining, _I don’t know where to start._ She was back to square one.

She must have said that aloud because Rhyo produced a PADD from her cluttered desk and a thick book. “Here.”

The warden pressed a button on the PADD and a video, grainy and on a small screen within the screen, played. It was a window visit. A less dejected, plum faced Leonard McCoy, pre-buzz cut and with the fire in his eyes that she remembered from those early Crew pictures. He was slamming his palms on the glass, pointing as two guards hauled him away. A broad man with downturned shoulders and sandy blonde hair on the other side held his head high, mouthing something.

The video cut out seconds later.

“It was before my time,” Rhyo said, in apology. “They didn’t record until after McCoy got upset. And that’s the only angle they were able to capture of the man.”

The parts of her that made her reporter hummed at this. “Who is he?”

Rhyo flipped to an earmarked page, one thin sheet among thousands. “The sign in sheet for this day lists him as—wait for it—Samuel Davis Jr.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Obviously not his real name?”

“Doubt it. He ducked all facial recognition. From the cameras, we have nothing on him.”

Alicia let go of the edge of the seat and sat up straighter. “Send that to my PADD? I have an idea of where to start.”

“Do you think he knows something about Kirk?” Rhyo asked as they bent over the PADD to watch it again.

Alicia bit her lip, watching McCoy’s face and the pure rage as the guards pull him away. “I can’t even hear what he’s saying.”

Rhyo sighed. “I asked him and he says it was probably a reporter that snuck in. We got that a lot. But…I have a feeling this was different.”

Alicia sat up. “I’ll see what I can dig up. Maybe even literally…if my boss convinces Starfleet to dig up Kirk’s grave.”

“I never thought I’d say this,” Rhyo says as she leads Alicia to the door and to the beginning of a very stressful few weeks. “But we may be on to something.”

“One would hope,” Alicia mutters, hoping for McCoy’s sake that she’s right.


	8. The Case Against Leonard McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter--but that means that my updates are going to come faster! Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 8—The Case Against Leonard McCoy

_Previously On Ellipsis…_

“After their announcement, well, the community blew up, so to speak. It was a wonderful time to be involved with soulmate study. The public, who before had been divided in terms of soulmate politics, took a sudden interest in this new celebrity. It was fascinating to see it evolve. But you know what they say…every rising star must fall just as sudden and fast.”

“Yes, Gary Mitchell. I think the court didn’t look into him enough.”

“Mitchell was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. After an investigation, officials had concluded that his actions on the shuttle had led it to crash and if not for Kirk, more casualties could have occurred.”

_-_

_My name is Alicia Agneau and you’re listening to Ellipsis, picking up where the story left off. In this episode we’re talking about the Case Against Leonard McCoy.”_

 

-

**AGNEAU:** One of the innumerable things I find so completely interesting about this case—and a bit troubling—is the rate at which the public turned on Leonard McCoy. In our last episode, you may remember hearing Adrian Creek speak about the evolution of Kirk and McCoy in their celebrity status, including his telling quote “every rising star must fall just as sudden and fast.” For a lot of the public, including the jury that sentenced McCoy to a life sentence at the New Zealand Penal Colony, the dramatic collapse of their faith in a man who had been credited with saving the world—and his husband—more than once is worrying and a source of endless discussion.

> **OONA DORFMAN:** We’ve recently started studying this in my NYU sociology class and honestly, we haven’t been able to puzzle out an answer that sufficiently abates our curiosity. One reason for it is that McCoy was a popular figure along with Kirk. And when Kirk went missing and then was found murdered…people were devastated. Rightfully so and they needed someone to blame. McCoy, even before the jury and prosecutors found him guilty, seemed like a worthy scapegoat.

  **JOEL EPHRAM:** I think it also had to be because of the soulmate connection. If James T. Kirk and Leonard H. McCoy had been regular heroes and public figures, the outrage would have been understandable. They were constants for months in the public’s lives. The public felt like they owed Kirk and McCoy (the whole Enterprise Crew, really) a debt, again and again. Pair that with the coveted soulmate status and the epic love story that the Starfleet PR machine painted? Now you have a tragedy that Shakespeare would be proud of. And the greater the tragedy, the greater the blame.

**ASHLEY MORGANSTEEN:** Our _People_ coverage of that time was very broad. We loved to do little pieces about McCoy and Kirk, interviews with friends and colleagues. But before that, before the fascination and acceptance with soulmate culture, people were wondering who McCoy was, you know? How did he score a guy like Kirk? Soulmate or not. Even when he was just a cadet at Starfleet, Kirk was the most eligible bachelor out there. He was the son of a deceased war hero; handsome, charming, ridiculously intelligent for all that he tried to hide it. We wanted to do a cover of him but we ended up changing that once they announced they were getting married, which was probably a PR scheme and a smart one. People ate up the redemption story, found love, broken people finding hope. It was a gold mine. When Jim went missing and then people pointed a finger at McCoy… that same public that loved him were so eager to turn on him after he was convicted. People hate being lied to in the media. I mean, inherently, we’re lied to all the time. But we choose what we believe. In a sense, this was like the greatest betrayal. What did it mean for the ordinary souls who either hadn’t found their soulmates yet or didn’t’ have tattoos? They felt that this was a representation of the worst of humanity, their greatest fear. In a way, they made McCoy pay for it.

> **ALBA HENRY:** I covered a lot of the case at the _Times_ before I was an editor and oh the backlash was spectacular. The media always needs some sort of crusade a la bread and circuses, of course. Distraction serves as the best device. And this was the ultimate distraction. McCoy was not only the perpetrator of the public’s greatest nightmare but also the scapegoat for the reasons why they’ve never met their soulmate or never had one. This was why they turned on him so quickly. He was just so easy to blame. The world was convinced that they needed to do something about Kirk’s death, about the death of soulmates before him and the soulmate void in their own lives. And well, there’s always someone to step in when the vacuum sucks all else out, isn’t there? And Alias did a good job at hyping up soulmates and their services. Also, Starfleet ran interference. It could have been ruinous but I think it only helped the industry.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** Which industry?
> 
> **ALBA HENRY:** The Soul-mate industry. Alias benefited from this because as much as people were weary of soulmates, they also felt that they if they had the markings, time was running out. Starfleet benefited too, of course. Recruitment went up. When a hero goes down, there’s a sense of patriotism and a need to right a wrong. Many young men and women wanted to right whatever wrong they felt. The public was so incensed that you probably could have convinced anyone to do anything. And they chose to burn McCoy at the stake. But everyone loves the phoenix story, aren’t I right, Miss Agneau? And that’s why this podcast is so compelling. Who’s going to rise out of the ashes? Maybe the appeal will give us an answer.

 

**AGNEAU:** With that in mind, I wanted to introduce listeners to Detective Arthur Hoight, who was with the case from the beginning and can accurately chronicle the beginning of the case against McCoy.

> **DETECTIVE** **ARTHUR HOIGHT:** Because of the upcoming appeal, I can only speak briefly on the case. I’ll do my best to answer your questions.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** I appreciate that. You were the lead Detective investigating alongside Starfleet into the disappearance of James Kirk. Can you go through the timeline of events?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** I can do that, yes. We received an anonymous call about a fight going on the Kirk-McCoy home around 12 PM on March 14 2262 . We didn’t find anything unusual at the scene but witness statements corroborated that they had heard a fight and it was a particularly angry one around 9:30 AM. We tried to reach Doctor McCoy on his comm. unit but were unsuccessful. Same with Captain Kirk. We decided to leave messages on both and give them the benefit of the doubt.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** Why?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** Couples fight, especially soulmate couples. It’s an intense relationship. I know this personally. We would await their comm., but check back in a day or so if we didn’t hear back. And we didn’t until Starfleet called us. McCoy hadn’t heard from Kirk in a day, which wasn’t unusual but given his high-profile status Starfleet wanted acted on right away.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** And how was McCoy when you interviewed him?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** I would say he was a combination of annoyed and worried, ma’am. He didn’t believe that an investigation was necessary. But he did confirm that he and Kirk had fought earlier the previous day. But he was closed up about it and didn’t want to go into detail citing it was “None of our damned business.” Meanwhile, we started a basic search, just his known hangouts, places on Campus and friends he might stay with. When that all came back empty, we started to worry. McCoy even more so. Someone had told me, and I found it striking at the time and still do, I guess, that McCoy and Kirk had not been away from each other longer than a few days. With the help of his Crew, Captain Spock especially, we initiated a widespread search.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** A week passed, correct, before you had more information?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** That is correct. We started focusing on his running routes. And at that time, we were worried that maybe he had been injured or someone had abducted him. We weren’t following any other leads.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** And that’s when McCoy’s tattoo appeared.
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** His river tattoo, the only tattoo to be photographed appeared. And so we followed the river. And found Kirk’s remains. I still think it was the hardest thing I had to do after we discovered the body, was to go tell McCoy. And it wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. He didn’t believe me and vehemently disagreed. And so we took him down to the morgue.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** He had no choice to believe you then, did he?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** It never gets easier; those moments when someone has to identify a body or you have to tell someone their family member is gone. This was no exception but it felt worse, somehow, because I felt like I knew McCoy and Kirk. The man was in shock and to this day, I have a hard time believing he did it because of what I saw in that morgue. I really do.

  **AGNEAU:** The reaction from around the Federation was incredible. Shock, disbelief, grief echoed in every reach and planet. Immediately, there was an outcry for justice. Starfleet wanted answers, McCoy wanted answers. We all did. I remember watching what had become CNN’s highest rated mid-afternoon segment, a half hour daily, in addition to the constant coverage, of the Kirk case.

**AAYU CHAUDRY:** I was working as an intern at CNN at the time, but was promoted very quickly when my research brought in leads. I was on the team that broke the news that Kirk’s body had been found. At first, we were all fixated on McCoy as the grieving widower and soulmate. Our coverage brought in specialists to talk about the grieving process and what the implications were for a soulmate to lose their mate. We even wondered what else we could learn from that fateful river tattoo and what other helps McCoy could be in the case.

> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** We had Doctor Boyce and a team of specialists look into that soul-mate tattoo. Were there any cases similar to this where markings developed post-meeting?
> 
> **AGNEAU:** And what did you find?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** In the rare cases in which a soulmate is missing or has been injured, even killed, the some of their mates receive a tattoo.

**BOYCE:** Just as the markings are an environmental aid to finding your true mate, I believe the markings after an injury or trauma relate to a warning.

**AGENAU:** Do you believe it’s indicative of guilt?

**BOYCE:** Not at all. Not all of the trauma in the cases we studied was perpetrated by the other soulmate. I just believe that when something tears the mates a part, the system that dictates these markings in the first place, call it fate or destiny, tries to make sure that the soulmates can find a way back to one another.

> **AGNEAU:** So if the river tattoo didn’t make McCoy suspicious, what did? How could doubt be sowed in the public’s mind, in the Jury’s mind and in the press, the first supporters of Kirk and McCoy? How did McCoy even become a suspect? The answer lies in an old friend and dishonorably discharged Cadet: Gary Mitchell.
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** Gary Mitchell came forward and said that he believed he was the second to last person to see Kirk alive. At first, we didn’t believe him. But we had to follow every lead to its inevitable conclusion and so we followed up with Mitchell.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** And you found enough to implicate McCoy?
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** We found enough to question him, yes. Mitchell says that he had recently tried to make amends with his old friends, especially Jim, who he wanted to wish well. But McCoy was against the contact and it was apparently a point of contention between the couple.

**AGNEAU:** The tabloids around this time were having a field day. They were quick to make conclusions, including that the appearance of Mitchell at this junction in the case must mean one thing: Mitchell was contesting that McCoy was Jim’s soulmate.

**TILLY EAGLEWOOD:** A ridiculous assumption. Those gossip rags were just horrible. Could McCoy have faked his tattoos? Could Mitchell have been Kirk’s soulmate? Could McCoy have killed Jim in a jealous rage? And people were really taking these ludicrous questions into consideration.

**BOYCE:** We all knew it wasn’t true but people would still ask me, Phil, do you think McCoy lied? And I mean it was a dishonorably discharged cadet with an ax to grind against a decorated Starfleet doctor. But it didn’t help his case.

> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** There was no physical evidence at the scene of the crime but we believe that to be because James Kirk was moved from the location of his murder and dumped in the river where he washed up in the location we found him. Mitchell stated that he saw Jim on a run and stopped to chat eave the house at 10 AM, a half hour before this supposed fight occurred. When we were leaving the area, Mitchell stated that he saw McCoy leave in the same direction.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** That doesn’t seem like a lot to go on.
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** No. But McCoy claims he went to work at the hospital that day. No one reported seeing him but acknowledges he could have been there. We knew that we had to find evidence and we held Mitchell while we investigated—we hadn’t completely ruled him out either.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** And that’s when you found the clothes.
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** At the hospital, with Kirk’s blood. They were McCoy’s scrubs. M.E. report confirmed that Kirk would have died from a blunt force to the head and chest. We believe that an initial hit caused Kirk to fall into the river. McCoy’s transport was found to have front-end damage.
> 
> **AGNEAU:** It was enough for trial.
> 
> **DETECTIVE HOIGHT:** Unfortunately. The call came from up the ranks to bring McCoy in at the memorial and no one wanted to do that. A lot of us were still suspicious with the case, with Mitchell, the evidence. But we had orders, so we went to arrest him.

**AGNEAU:** Thank you for listening…next up: The Trial.


	9. Learning Not To Flinch

“You must eat, James.” Kodos said, rearranging the plate on the biobed’s tray. He tried, given their history, not to find that ironic.

 Jim also tried not to think of Bones’ eyebrows creasing together, hands fisted at his sides as he tried to get him to finish the sandwich. _Just one more bite, kid. Please._

How could he tell Bones that after walking into the Warp Core that food felt too rough on his tongue, scraping against the healing muscle and bringing back the feeling of its’ swelling and boiling as the radiation poisoning took effect? How could he explain that even though food had at once been an ally and enemy, the thought of taking a bite of anything would make him sick?

But while Bones had understood. Kodos would not.

“I cannot help you if you do not eat.” The man tried to tell him and Jim, who hadn’t realized that he’d been biting the inside of his cheek, spit at him, hitting his pressed pants with a glob of spit and blood and mucus—Jim had a cold, of course he fucking did.

“Temerity will not serve you here, James.” Kodos said and reached for a napkin to wipe at the glob, placing it on the tray and swinging it out of the door.

Jim had wanted very much to aim at his head but the man had learned to duck since he last came to check on Jim, after the blood had been taken and Jim had hallucinated that he was in sickbay with Bones was sucking all the blood out because the radiation poisoning was back.

He woke with a hand wrapped around his neck and a cup of water being brought to his lips. He spit the water in Kodos’ face and gripped the edge of the Biobed hard enough to cut into his palms until he left.

Kodos could go from being avuncular, trying to soothe Jim and present him with food or an extra blanket or something to tinker with to being truculent with a flip of the switch, throwing Jim’s tray at him or threatening Bones again.

It was always Bones on Kodos’ lips or his crew, or his hometown (though Jim wouldn’t mind seeing a crater shaped hole where Riverside once was).

The older man knew that once Jim started to fight, _really_ fight—more than spit or upend his dinner tray- all he had to do was take Jim’s arm in his and study the black and blue and red welts of the soul-mate markings.

From an early age, Jim learned to pick his battles—with his mother who brushed off his questions, his brother who never let him wander, his teachers who never let him do it _his_ way. Each time he would surrender a little, becoming a little more quiet, a little more the boy they wanted him to be.

He drove his father’s antique car off a cliff, jumping out a few seconds shy of too late.

It wasn’t until Tarsus that he found out the meaning of war.

And even though people claimed he was a survivor, that he was a hero for saving those kids—he would be called a hero again and again and each time the word left a sour taste at the back of his mouth— he wasn’t sure if he won that battle or lost it.

He vowed to never feel that way ever again—conquered, broken, lost—in anything. He spent days hiding in his grandfather’s house reading the memoirs of war heroes, relentlessly playing his brother and grandfather at chess until he won, running and goading the older boys’ in town into fights until he no longer could be described as “gaunt”.

He knew how to survive, to pull himself back up.

Even if it meant learning to pick his battles again, even if it meant conceding.

Kodos might have a disdain for soul-mates but he certainly understood the mechanics of them.

Creek was more anxious and if it was all possible, made Jim feel more uncertain. There was always something boiling beneath the façade, just out of sight.

At least Jim knew what he was getting with the Executioner.

With Creek, there was that slick smile, that sickly sweet drawl. Jim always planned how to take him down at night, before sleep swallowed him.

It was this uncertainty and the threat that made him march across the courtyard, one small speck on Q’s massive grey surface, toward a series of squat buildings with barred windows. He had the sense that he was being rewarded, though for what he couldn’t figure out.

Maybe it was because he finally ate some yogurt, though no one guessed he was lactose intolerant until too late. And so he marched, under the watchful eye of the merc who had shot him in the ruins of that ship, able to see the clear blue sky even if his eyes itched and watered. No one commented on his allergies, either.

This was Q-- a stygian desert not unlike Tarsus -- where a half of Alias’ research took place. A perfect grey dot in plain sight, perfect for hiding nefarious plans.

Being here felt like conceding. A lot like burning his tattoos had felt.

Each time he saw an escape route, his mind following the path toward...what? Escape he could do. But defeat? Destruction? He needed to bring down Kodos and Creek. Not putt-putt in a shitty shuttle to the nearest rock only to run out of gas and get stuck waiting for Kodos to find him again.

Lenore and him had tried that and failed.

Although, he wasn’t sure if it was failure when one half of the party was still at large. 

Presumed dead but not stuck like he was.

Jim hoped she was having better luck than he.

The Merc nudged him with his phaser to prod him along. Jim could easily disarm him. Or so he hoped. Not only was he bound but his muscles had atrophied some in the past five years and though he exercised given the chance, he spent the majority of his time chained to a biobed.

“Ah, Jim,  good.” Creek said, looking up from where he was leaning over a large work table, blueprints spread before him.

“You wanted to see me?” Jim asked.

“I’d like to thank you for your initial cooperation these past few weeks,” Jim rolled his eyes and Creek stepped closer, surveying him as if he were just another Alias employee and not a hostage. “I’m afraid we have a big ask.”

Creek motioned at the Mercenary and the man undid Jim’s hands. He dropped them, refusing to give them the satisfaction of rubbing at his wrists in front of either the Merc nor Creek.

There was nothing in view that could be used to take out the Merc, nothing that would beat a phaser anyway but Jim thought about grabbing Creek and using him as a shield as he backed out of the building. It wouldn’t get him very far but Creek might be stunned for his trouble and the thought made Jim a little more happy.

Until he saw the blue prints.

“You recognize it?” Creek’s eyes lit up as Jim scanned the notes. Yes, he did. 

“SIACS.” He muttered. Soul-Mate Identifying and Cataloguing Software, pronounced Sykes for some reason Jim had never been able to ascertain -- Boyce and Starfleet’s project, dangerous and full of potential. And Creek had the plans. 

“How the fuck did you get this?” Jim asked, feeling a way of nostalgia for a moment, a wave that felt like a dizziness. He reached for the table and Creek moved aside the pages, actual hard copies, Jesus fuck.

“None of your concern. What you do need to know, however, is that it is imperative you give us the codes for the software.

Jim feels a raw laugh bubble up from his sternum. It hurts. “No.”

“I don’t think you want to fight me on this, Jim,” Creek says and fixes him with a stare Jim imagines he would see on a disappointed father, if his own were alive.

“Why?” Jim shifts so that his hip rests against the table’s edge, steadying him. He’s afraid he’d sway too much otherwise.

“Why not?” Creek counters. “It would be very beneficial to us both.” 

“I highly doubt that.”

Anything that they want from him, obviously, would cause more harm than good. Creek’s company might have once started out as an altruistic venture but even philanthropy can breed monsters. As soon as people started throwing away their life’s savings for the pursuit of their soul-mates, or for figuring out why no tattoos appeared on their own arms, Creek’s company turned.

Jim had turned him down again and again in the early years, when he needed an ally in Starfleet to make his company appear more reputable. He just never figured the man would get so desperate.

“What if I said I would let you go if you gave me the codes?” Creek asked, lowering his voice so that the Merc couldn’t hear. 

Jim felt the laugh get stuck in his throat. “Kodos will kill us both before long. I hope you realize that.”

Creek slapped the table, making a crease in the plans. “He cannot touch me.” 

Jim smiled, mimicking Creek’s easy privileged grin that’s graced many news feed reports and magazine covers on padds around the Federation. “You sure about that? You do realize you made a deal with the devil. Or maybe it was he that made the deal with the devil. Either way, I’m not going home anytime soon _and_ I don’t intend to make this easier for you.”

He knew that tonight Kodos would come to him and threaten Bones. Even take a screenshot of him from the satellite monitoring the New Zealand Penal Colony.

He hated it. It made him sick, dry heaving when there was nothing in his stomach to be released.

He needed Bones as far away from this as he can. He needed his story to fizzle out, that radio show to run out of leads. For now.

Because soon, somehow, he was going to make sure all they talked about was him. And hopefully, that would lead him home.


	10. Hard To Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicia confronts Shaw about McCoy's tattoos and the visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was going to be ten chapters. I lied.

Areel Shaw’s office was like a shrine to Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy’s relationship.

“And this isn’t even the half of it.” The lawyer tells Alicia as she lets her in the back door for fear that the ‘Vultures’ would bombard them. Apparently Ellipsis had reignited interest in the case, along with the appeal. Everyone wanted a glimpse at Shaw and her husband to dissect from holos and vids what the progress was from one upraised lip or downturned shoulder. Alicia was glad to have avoided that.

“You have more of this?” Alicia asks and picks up the padd with the Kirk-McCoy marriage announcement.

They had gotten married on McCoy’s family land in Georgia, even though Starfleet had pressured them to have a public wedding in San Francisco. The newsfeeds and tabloids that been a buzz for days over that particular fight.

“Well, we did. Most of the files were stolen.” Areel Shaw set out two glasses and a decanter of an orange liquid that fizzed when she popped the top off.

“When?” Alicia’s mind was already turning at the implications. She could imagine Charlie rubbing his hands together happily in the KAZ radio office, _The plot thickens, Agneau!_

Areel poured and then downed half the drink, popping her lips when she had done so. “Sam liked to keep physical copies along with the others because it’s such a high profile case. Wouldn’t want anyone to hack into them.”

Alicia took the proffered glass and as politely as possible, sniffed it. Areel laughed. “It’s only slightly alcoholic and legal. Don’t worry.”

"Only slightly legal or alcoholic?" Alicia asked.

Areel smiled and so Alicia took a sip. It tasted like orange soda and whiskey. She cleared her throat.

Areel took a seat on one of the antique green couches in the office. “I imagine you’re here for more than looking at our collection.”

“McCoy’s tattoos are…” She searched for a word. “Damaged.”

Areel drained her glass and set it down with a thunk on the coffee table. It was an intricate design, deep grooves of some off world language woven around flowers. “I know.”

“You do?”

“McCoy wouldn’t talk to me when I comm’d the prison for our weekly meeting. Two weeks ago he was gung ho about the appeal and now?” She shook her head, a curtain of thick blonde hair falling over her face. She didn’t bother to brush it away. “I knew something was up.”

Alicia took another sip. She could use the buzz.

“What do we do?”

Areel sighed. “I sent Samuel off to a pleasure planet for a week. His stress had stress. And the media! Insipid vultures.” She shook her head. “No offense.”

Alicia shrugged.

“When he comes back, we’ll have to deliberate but I’ve decided to do nothing for now.”

“Aren’t you worried that he’ll sabotage the appeal?”

“Yes. But if you keep doing what you’re doing with your radio show, we’ll have more support. And maybe that will change his mind.” Areel poured more out of the decanter into their glasses.

“But also…isn’t this a good thing? Can’t you prove that he _didn’t_ kill Jim—if the tattoos are showing up damaged now and not then?”

Areel reached over for a binder and plopped it down on the table. “Here’s a list of cases where the tattoos have been damaged afterwards and the soul-mate was killed earlier. Delayed reactions aren’t understood but it’s possible.”

They lapsed into silence. It was heavy and Alicia opened her mouth several times but nothing good enough would come out. She wondered how this would play out in the show. She already had several episodes planned, she just needed soundbites and location. Could she drag it out, seesawing between belief and conviction?

“I don’t want to believe that he did it.”

Areel pursed her lips together like she was about to confront a child who’d done wrong. “That’s something you need to figure out, I suppose. Not for me to tell you.”

“Oh, I know.” She toyed with her glass. She was exhausted. Charlie had yelled at her to come home but she’d taken a cheap transport from New Zealand to Oregon. Her blood hummed with this case. Her eyes filled with the questions in bold on her padd, the notes she had handwritten in a notebook she basically slept with. She already felt like she had been here too long while there were other leads to explore, threads to follow. She could be back in New Zealand making McCoy tell her everything over, until his monotone grew into something with feeling again.

“There was a lead,” She found herself saying because there was. The whole other reason for coming here was on her padd, a picture from a grainy security footage.

She pulled it out and showed Alicia. Her brows drew together like the birds you might draw in kindergarten, imperfect Vs.

“Do you recognize this man? He was Leonard’s only visitor in five years.”

Areel studied the screen, eyes darting like she needed to scan every inch. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

She shook her head again. And Alicia spoke. “I had a crazy thought on my way over here. It might be because of lack of caffeine but-“ She tapped the screen and another picture came into view. It was as Kirk family photo from before Jim was born. George Kirk stood in proud in his dress uniform, Winona in her own Starfleet uniform beside him. Samuel Kirk pressed up against his father, goofy grin and eyes bright as only a five-year-old could be. “It kind of looks like George.”

Areel studied the photo and then the visitor. “I don’t know.”

“I mean…Samuel Kirk passed away, right?”

Alicia knew this to be true. She had done extensive research on the Kirks. She knew that Winona was off-world and had been since Jim had been murdered. She knew that his Uncle had tried to sell the family house, an old farm north of Riverside, and had been laughed out of town. She knew that Samuel Kirk was killed on a survey mission-he had been a scientist on special assignment on the Deneva—when he was tragically killed in an accident that had leveled the colony.

Areel nodded slowly her eyes still trained on the photo. “Right.”

“Then who the hell is this? Do they have any relatives?”

Shaw rubbed at her temples. “What did the log say?”

“Sammy Davis Jr.”

“It’s all a sick joke. I'll ask my husband about it but I don’t remember McCoy mentioning a visitor. Did he say anything to you about it?”

Alicia shook her head. “We didn’t speak much. I’ll have to go back but for right now.,” she gestured at the photo. “This could be important.”

“Have you thought about going to Riverside?”

Yes, she had. It was one of the pilgrimages she thought was necessary but hadn’t gotten to yet. “I would like to.”

“I think you should. We shipped some items there for Winona when she returns to the house…if she returns. But maybe you can find something useful.” Areel shrugged, gathered up the glasses. “You never know.”

And that was how Alicia found herself slightly hungover, exhausted and on the nearest flight out to Riverside, Iowa.

\--

Alone in her study, with only the sound of the wind outside the large glass windows to keep her company, Areel Shaw made a call.

Two rings and a voice said, “Yeah?”

“I’m sending Alicia Agneau your way. I think she may prove useful.” Shaw said, sitting at her desk. Her gaze, as it always did, fell upon a propped up picture frame. It was after the re-commissioning of the Enterprise when Jim had graduated from wheel chair to crutches following the John Harrison incident. The whole Bridge Crew had gathered for one photo, although the task was remained more difficult. The only one who kept a straight face long enough was Spock and the Starfleet photographer threatened to walk off after trying and succeeding to get a good shot.

“If y’all don’t shut up long enough for us to take this damn picture, all your next physicals will be _very_ uncomfortable.” Leonard spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Hear, hear,” Chapel concurred, neck and head as straight as possible.

Jim pressed his lips together, wobbly as he leaned on his husband.

Len turned to the side, brow curved in his worried expression, hand out to steady Jim. “You alright?”

Jim shared a smile, one Areel imagined to be only just for him and leaned forward, forehead just touching Len’s chin.

It was with that the photo had been taken. It had been framed and was sitting in the foyer of their house for years, always greeting them when they came back from the black.

It was one of the first things that Areel had grabbed that morning after Len was arrested. She knew that anything at the house would have been evidence if she hadn’t gone to go get it and she and Carol Marcus made swift work of emptying the house of anything. It already felt hollow to enter when Jim wasn’t there but this felt like preparing an estate sale, tallying up all the things that could be left for the masses, taking only a few precious things.

The voice on the other end said, “Shaw?”

“Sorry,” She said and yawned.

“Do you think we can trust her?” The voice asked.

“I think we’d be stupid not to.” She replied.

\--

Riverside reminded Alicia of where she grew up in New Jersey. It was small enough where everyone knew everyone’s business but large enough that the houses—mostly farms—were spaced out to give some semblance of privacy.

It was easy to see why Jim Kirk felt ambivalent toward it. She felt the same way about her own hometown where everyone knew her mother from her job as a waitress and how her father had left without a word. She felt like they knew all sides of her there, giving her a symbolic key to the city when she got her first journalism award, covering her progress of Ellipsis in the local newspaper. But she hated it’s claustrophobia, it’s uniformity. Just as Kirk must have.

It helped that Jim had a ship yard in town.

Alicia had the crater that was New York City and the threat of radiation poisoning.

“People always ask me when I knew I wanted to join Starfleet. Was it inevitable because of my parents?” Kirk had said once in an interview. “And I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I would be lying if I told you there was a time I resented Starfleet for what happened to my dad. I was just a kid and didn’t understand he’d made his own choices. Just as I made mine and I think for me, though, when I would pass the shipyard on whatever bike I was tinkering on and see that progress, I just knew. I wanted to go up with a ship one day.”

It was ironic, of course, that one of the ships built in the yard was The Enterprise.

“I wasn’t born in Riverside but I was raised there. And one night, I noticed them building a ship. Hadn't paid a lot of attention to that before. It was time to go up.”

That had been the night Pike recruited him. He’d driven to the Yard with the clothes on his back and a busted comm unit in his pocket, leaving his mom a short message. _Joining the Fleet. I’m okay. Love you._

From her spot just outside of town she could see the stacks from the Yard, imagining what ship they might be working on now.

She thought about heading straight over there but figured she’d better make some calls to Charlie, see if he could get her any interviews. He was ridiculously well-connected, once serving as PR officer in Starfleet. He had a heart condition which prevented him from actual space travel and hadn’t found out until a simulation nearly killed him.

His family had all been communication officers and he had a knack for persuasion and a business personality that made stories spin easy. Charlie became a reporter after he couldn’t stand working in publicity any longer and putzed around at the radio show until Alicia came along.

Her idea for Ellipsis, he said, would change everything. It was just the revival radio needed, what narrative storytelling was waiting for. It was the highest compliment and the only one she was likely to get.

She sent a comm to Charlie with the details and found herself walking down the road, shading her eyes against the sun. Above, pale blue sky steadied itself against rolling clouds.

 It was cold for Spring but that seemed fitting as she rubbed at her sweater-covered shoulders and proceeded town the road, allowing her mind to roll with words she would narrate in the episode with the working title: Made In Riverside--a piece of Enterprise in a museum from it’s first retrofit once said that and it charmed her a bit.

It was only her working title though, something better would come later.

She had once read in a Kirk bio that when he had driven his Dad’s old car off the quarry, that was the last time he’d see his brother for a year, walking toward town and hitchhiking as the road edged toward corn fields.

Alicia figured, though she had no true idea, that the Kirk homestead must be close and felt that the walk was clearing her mind. 

It was an hour and the sun was starting to dip, the sky turning over to salmon pink and vivid blue, when she found it.

Of course she already passed at least two dozen houses, all in various states from decrepit to well kept and each one looked like Jim Kirk could have grown up there.

This was it, though. It looked wind-blown, the white paint chipped and the grass grown over with weeds. In a few years someone would try to make it a museum, maybe, but for now it looked just as any old house would. Sad.

Except, as she got nearer, this one was not as vacant as she thought.

The gravel looked kicked up and trodden on, the air smelled of exhaust fumes, a smell that had ceased to exist almost a century ago.

And then she was jumping out of the way, her knees hitting the gravel, rocks biting into her palms as a red pickup sped up into the driveway, brakes squealing as it halted outside of the garage.

A broad shouldered, stubble covered man in plaid jumped out, slamming the door.

She got to her knees and froze as he aimed a phaser, the metal glinted off the just setting sun and making her eyes water, at her head and narrowed his eyes at her. His jaw popped and she could tell he was the type to shoot first and never ask questions.

She held up her hands in front of her chest and swayed, splaying her fingers so far that they ached. “Whoa, sorry. I don’t mean any harm. I’m-“

The Guy squinted at her and then moved the phaser to point at her chest. “The reporter. Agneau, right?

She straightened, her ponytail tickling the back of her neck. “If I say yes are you going to shoot me?”

He took a few seconds—while her fucking armpits prickled with sweat and terror and her legs turned to jelly. “Nah.”

He lowered the phaser and she slumped forward. “That’s good.”

He jogged over and reached down a hand. Her muscles ached. “Sorry about that. Can never be too sure who’s about to knock on the door.”

And as she looked at him, the glint from the phaser no longer in her eyes, she realized that she knew him. This was the visitor! Sammy Davis Jr., mystery man.

“The man’s—more like a bear’s-- lips quirked. “Sam Kirk.” 

Her breath caught in her throat. She managed to get out, “But you’re-“

“Dead?”

Her eyes widened and he chuckled before walking up the drive to the house, slamming the transport door.

 

“Us Kirks are hard to kill, Agneau.”

 

She felt something stir in her stomach, like when she devoured the Harry Potter books for the first time or learned of a pressing story she wanted to follow for work. Anticipation. Epic anticipation.

 

“I feel like there’s a story here.”

 

He grinned at her. “Obviously.” And then jumped up the porch steps, with the practice precision of one who had done it many times. “You gonna help me tell it?

 

He left her to stand on the porch, screen door banging and the night approaching in various dark colors across the sky.

 

 “What the _fuck_ is going on?” She muttered to herself before following. It wasn’t the first time that since starting this that she was desperate for more, but it was the first time that she felt like she had truly felt fooled, like she wasn’t in control of the narrative anymore. Well, she was done with that.


End file.
